


Not What We May Be

by MermaidOfZennor (SapphireOceans)



Category: No Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23845390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireOceans/pseuds/MermaidOfZennor
Summary: The Harry Potter AU that no one asked for, but they got anyway. An AU I'm writing for my friends featuring their LARP characters.
Kudos: 18





	1. The Noble House of Devereux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Added a small section to help flesh out life in the Devereux house a bit more, thanks to Richard for letting me bother him with Uther questions :) xxx

* * *

> _'Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be.'_  
>  **Hamlet** ~ Act IV, Scene V

* * *

“Where are you going?”  
The girl sits on his bed, swinging her legs back and forth.  
The boy looks up from the trunk he is packing, setting down the new school jumper he’s folding. “Hogwarts, Ailla. Just like Liza and Sevi and the others.”  
The girl cocks her head to the side, fiddling with the end of her long braid. “Is Brayden going too?”  
“Yes, both of us. We’re getting the train up tomorrow.”  
The girl seems to consider this. “Can I come too?”  
He gives a dry chuckle, reaching for his new spellbooks. “You’re too young. You’ll go when you’re older.”  
She presses her lips together in disapproval. “I want to go with you and Brayden.”  
“Well, you can’t. You can go to Hogwarts when you’re eleven, like me.”  
“But that’s not for another four years!” she cries, her eyes widening in dismay.  
“Then you’ll have to wait. You’re too little, Ailla.”  
“But I can read and do my sums! And I bet I could do magic, if I tried really hard!”  
Her face is so earnest that he has to suppress a laugh. "Sorry Ailla. I promise I’ll write though. And send pictures.”  
“Carric and I will send you a real Hogwarts toilet seat if you’re lucky!” Brayden yells from his room next door, where he’s obviously been eavesdropping.  
"And Brayden and I will send you a real Hogwarts toilet seat,” the boy promises solemnly.  
The girl laughs, even though she looks like she’s about to cry. “Carric?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Elodie will go the year after next, and Aurelia the year after that, won’t she?”  
He shrugs noncommittally. “I guess so.”  
“Carric?”  
“Yes Ailla?”  
“What happens when I’m the only one left here by myself?”

* * *

The front door shuts behind them with a heavy thud. Ailla wipes her face quickly. She didn’t want to cry at the station, but she couldn’t help the hot tears from bubbling out.  
Her mother sighs, unwrapping her flowing scarf from around her slender neck. Ailla sometimes thinks that mother looks like a swan, long and graceful and pale. She is the most beautiful woman Ailla has ever seen, with wide grey-blue eyes and a sheaf of golden hair falling in waves past her shoulders. When she smiles, Ailla feels like she’s looking into the sun. Her mother doesn’t often smile at her, though; most days she wears a pinched expression, her lips pursed together with a little crease between her eyebrows. Mother brushes past them, her heels clacking on the polished wood of the hallway floor. A house elf jumps out the way as Mother strides past to Father’s study and raps smartly on the door, before pushing it open without waiting for a response. A cool voice greets her from inside, and she shuts the door vigorously behind her. Even so, Ailla can hear the yelling which echoes from inside.  
Aurelia and Elodie find her huddled in her bed, burrowed under the sheets like a niffler. They say nothing, but both of them climb in with her, pulling the sheets over them and they all curl together like rabbits in a burrow, muffling the sobs.  
Two days later, Ailla receives two letters, one from each of her brothers, a photo of the two of them in their new house robes, and an official Hogwarts toilet seat.  
Her parents are not as pleased as she is.

* * *

It is snowing; not fluffy, gentle snow, the type you get on Christmas cards, but harsh, icy sleet which stings your skin and soaks through your gloves. Ailla is stuck inside alone; Elodie is at Hogwarts, sorted into Slytherin like the majority of the family, and Aurelia is tucked away with Mother, having her extra lessons as usual. Mother says that she’s a prodigy; she’s been exhibiting signs of magic since was a baby, and she does extra lessons with her every day. She’s even let her use her wand sometimes.  
Ailla is bored. She’s done all her schoolwork for the day and her tutor has left. Her new tutor is a nice lady, but she preferred being taught by Grandma Anwen; her lessons were always more interesting. She’s read all her books at least twice, and Father says she’s not allowed to read the books from the library without an adult checking them first. Normally, she’d go out into the grounds and run around the rose garden, or climb the old oak, but the snow has frozen, forming a slippery layer, and she has been forbidden to leave the house. She entertains herself by running up and down the long gallery for a bit. Mother will be holding her Yule Ball soon; the house elves are already beginning to hang up garlands cut from some of the evergreens in their woods, and the team of decorators will come in next week to start putting up the Christmas trees.  
Ailla takes a moment to imagine herself at the party. She holds out the corners of her skirt, like she’s seen the ladies do with their dress robes, and twirls around the room, sliding on the polished wooden floor in her stockings. She pictures herself in a silk gown, her hair twisted up into an elegant knot. She’s watched her mother’s parties for years, peeking over the edge of the minstrels’ gallery in the Great Hall at the distinguished witches and wizards walking down the great staircase. She’s not allowed to go though; she is too young, Mother says, but she knows that is not the real reason.  
She comes to a stop in front of the tapestry stretching along the back wall of the gallery. She remembers sitting in front of it with Sevi when she was little, running her fingers long the silver threads connecting all their names. Richard, Silas, Sevigwylis, Milyan, Alizarine, Carric, Brayden, Elodie, Aurelia, Ailliena. She used to make a little song out of it, chanting her siblings names, while pointing at each of them. It used to confuse her, that her and Elodie and Aurelia’s mother wasn’t everyone else’s mother too, until one day Sevi took her down to the crypt and showed her the tombs. She’d been down there before, playing hide and seek with Carric and Brayden behind the statues, but she’d never understood that Richard, Silas, Sevi and Milyan’s mother was buried underneath one of the great stone boxes, and that Carric, Brayden and Liza’s mum was in the one next to her.  
As she walks through the long gallery now, she pauses before their portraits. Her father’s first wife looks just like Sevi and Milyan, and she can see Richard’s blue eyes in her face as well. Carric, Brayden and Liza’s mother looks a lot like Liza; they both have stony grey eyes and pointed faces with sharp cheek bones. Her hair is like Carric’s though; thick and black, falling in curls around her face.  
By mid-afternoon, Ailla has been through every room in the house, except for Father’s study and the schoolroom where Mother is teaching Aurelia. She’s managed to go around her room three time without touching the floor; she lurked in the kitchens for nearly an hour before Betta and Emrys chivvied her out as she was getting in the way of dinner. Sometimes, when all the others are away at school, she thinks there are more ghosts in the house than living people. She misses the holidays, when the others are home and Sevi and Richard take her down to the beach. She loves the sea, watching the waves crash against the rocks below the cliffs, walking down the steps cut into the granite to reach the beach. She even loves it in winter, when the waves are grey and angry; she’s sick of being stuck in the house and wants to smell the salt in the air.  
Well, she is nine now. Father has told her she’s never allowed to go down to the beach by herself, but she’s practically grown up, and if she didn’t go _down_ to the beach, just stands on the cliffs and looks, then she’s not breaking that rule, is she? Yes, she’s not supposed to leave the house, but if it’s just for ten minutes…  
She pulls on her wellies and grabs her thick woolly cloak, wrapping it around her shoulders and pulling the hood up. Her small hand closes around the iron bolt and she slides it back, before pulling on the heavy iron ring to open the thick oak doors. The wind hits her face, biting her cheeks, but she’s so relieved to taste the fresh air that she hardly notices. She slips outside, heading across the bridge. Peeking over the side, she can see that the moat has frozen. She walks along the driveway for a few minutes, before taking the path off to the left, towards the sea. The wind is so strong that it tugs her hood down, and she has to pull it back up again. She comes to a halt at the top of the cliff, staring out at the wild sea. The wind whips the hood back from her head again, pulling her hair from its braid so it flies loose around her. She laughs, the tight, trapped feeling which fills her every time the others leave lifting somewhat. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, inhaling the cold salt, not caring that her fingers are numb or that snow is melting in her hair.  
The sudden hand grabbing her arm is such a shock that she screams, her eyes flying open. She spins around, and finds herself staring up into furious blue eyes.  
“F-Father, I…”  
“How dare you leave the house when I expressly told you not to!” He grabs both of her arms, giving her a little shake. “Not only that, you’re outside the estate! You know you’re not allowed to leave the boundaries!”  
“I’m sorry Father, I just wanted a walk…I come here with Sevi and Richard in summer…I thought…”  
“You obviously didn’t think at all!” he snarls, turning and beginning to pull her back towards the house at such a pace that she nearly trips trying to keep up with him, his fingers still digging into her arm hard enough to bruise.  
“I was bored! I’ve been all alone since the others left and I was stuck in the house and just wanted a walk-”  
He pushes the doors open, pulling her through without saying anything up, tugging her along up the stairs and along the landing towards the east tower.  
“Father, I’m sorry!”  
He leads her up the twisting stone staircase, and pushes open the door at the top, shoving her inside. He stands, framed in the stone doorway, cold fury etched in the lines of his face.  
“Never,” he says slowly, his voice calm and even but somehow even more scary for it, “Never leave this estate without my permission. And never disobey me again.”  
The door shuts and she hears the lock click. She sits on the floor in a ball and after a long moment, she begins to cry.  
  


* * *

“I’m going to try out for seeker this year,” Carric says on the car ride to Kings Cross.  
When it was just Richard, Sevi says that Father used to apperate with him to the platform. But now there are ten children in total, and six of them attend Hogwarts, and Ailla always insists on coming to the station, so mother hires a car, and Father never comes to the platform anymore.  
Sevi snorts at Carric’s declaration. “Like you’d get it over Cinder Hearthsong. I bet she’s made Quidditch Captain this year as well.”  
Carric scowls. “Cinder’s good. But they’ve never seen me play seeker before.”  
Liza, sitting in the seat in front of Ailla, laughs. “Cinder, Carric…it doesn’t matter who Gryffindor’s seeker is. You know you’ll never be as good as me. I snatched the snitch right out from Hearthsong’s nose last year.”  
“Yeah, but we won on goals,” Carric quips snidely. “Mostly scored by me, I think you’ll find.”  
“But Slytherin won overall,” Sevi says lazily, from where she sits up front next to the new driver. The poor man looks like he’s only just now understanding why his predecessor is off sick, and Ailla has a distinct feeling that he’d like nothing more than to drive the car of squabbling siblings off of Waterloo Bridge.  
“I think you’d be a great seeker Carric,” Ailla pipes up from the back of the car, where’s she’s very snugly packed between Elodie and Brayden.  
“See? From the mouths of babes,” Carric says smugly, dodging a clip round the ear from Liza. She hits Milyan instead, who smartly elbows her in the stomach in response, making her scowl at him.  
"Ailla, don’t try and talk about Quidditch. You sound like an idiot,” Liza snaps. “You’ve never even seen a match; how would you know the first thing about it?”  
“What’s the matter Liza?” Carric’s voice is taunting. “Jealous that the ten-year-old thinks I’m better than you?”  
“I’ve read a lot of books on Quidditch,” Ailla mutters, but not so loud that Liza can hear. She’s been pinched enough to know better than to backtalk her big sister.  
Brayden hears though, and he gives her a wink, managing to somehow manoeuvre an arm around her shoulders in the cramped back seats. “I’ll send you those sugar quills from Hogsmeade again,” he whispers, and she feel her face light up, despite the fact that in the seats in front of them, Milyan, Liza and Carric are all embarking on what looks like full on war, complete with slapping, hair pulling and even a rather impressive kick.  
“I DON’T CARE HOW MUCH YOUR DAD IS PAYING ME,” the driver suddenly bellows, “I SWEAR YOU THREE, IF YOU DO NOT STOP RIGHT NOW, I WILL TURN THIS CAR AROUND!”  
The three of them fall petulantly silent, and the youngest children in the back press their hands to their mouths to hide their giggles.

* * *

Gravel crunches as the driver pulls up outside the house. Ailla slips out of the car, heading up the grey stone steps and stepping into the hall. The heavy oak doors shut behind her with a _boom_ which echoes around the empty house. Her feet in her patent leather shoes sound awfully loud in deserted hallway. She stills for a minute, unsure what to do. Mother is in France, dropping Aurelia off for her first year at Beauxbatons and the house is so quiet she hardly dares to breathe.  
Her father’s study door is ajar. Slowly she creeps down the hallway and pushes it open. She has never seen him like this before. His face is puffy, and his swollen red eyes contrast with his pale skin.  
“Father?” she whispers, in a voice so small it’s hardly audible. He doesn’t react.  
She’s not allowed in the study. Her foot hesitates, before stepping over the threshold. “Father? What’s wrong?”  
She walks up to his desk, and he finally seems to register her. “Ailliena,” he says, and it’s like he’s rising from a deep sleep, blinking at her as if he’s trying to remember who she is.  
“Are you ill, Father?” she says, still in that trembling whisper, and his face softens. One hand reaches out and strokes the top of her dark head lightly.  
“So, she has left you too,” he murmurs, a wry smile twisting his lips. “So, she has left both of us.”  
“I don’t understand.”  
His hand falls from her hair. “Me neither.” He stands, so suddenly that she jumps back in fright, and takes a balled-up piece of paper from his desk, tossing it into the fire in the grate. She stands behind him, green eyes wide as it burns.  
“Go to your room, Ailliena.”  
“But…” Her breath catches in her throat. “But…did I do something wrong?”  
She can’t see his expression. The light of the flames is dancing off of the crags in his face, leaving the rest in shadow. But she can hear the catch in his voice when he whispers.  
“No. No you didn’t.”

* * *

She sits on her bed, face pressed against the cool glass of the window until it mists. She draws patterns and pictures with her finger as she waits and waits for that familiar _crack_ outside the front doors that means her mother has come home.  
She falls asleep, sitting curled in a ball with the blanket round her. It’s not until she wakes, blinking bleary-eyed in the light of the next day sun that she realises she’s really all alone.

Mother isn’t coming home from France.


	2. Diagon Alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Chris who basically wrote a chose your own adventure with me via messenger (Carric is in Diagon Alley! Where will he go first!? Roll initiative!), George who co-wrote Conner's intro, and Sam who got relentlessly badgered about Gwen <3

* * *

“IT CAME IT CAME IT CAME!”  
The Devereux siblings are greeted by a whirlwind of dark hair and screeching as they disembark from the Hogwarts Express that July.  
Sevi finally manages to grab Aillla under the arms and lift her up to stop her dancing around. “What came, silly? I can’t see it with you jigging about!”  
Ailla waves the thick parchment envelope in Sevi’s face, her sister laughs as she recognises the green ink and familiar seal.  
“Well of course it came! What were you expecting?”  
Ailla laughs as well, her pale freckled face unusually flushed. “I don’t know! I thought I might not get in!”  
Sevi plops her down, and Ailla waves the envelope in Carric’s face instead. He grabs off of her, and flips it open to scan through the familiar words.  
“Aw no! Don’t tell me you’re coming to Hogwarts with us?” he says, giving her a wicked grin. “I thought you wanted to go to Beauxbatons.”  
“Well, the letter for Beauxbatons _did_ arrive,” Ailla says slightly smugly. “But I’d rather go to Hogwarts!”  
“Wait, Ailla can do magic?” Milyan said, raising his eyebrows. “You mean she’s _not_ a squib?”  
“I’m not a squib!” Ailla squeals indignantly. “I got my letter! And I’ve done magic before.”  
This is true. The story of how Milyan kept trying to get Ailla’s magic to manifest over and over again is legendary, mainly because the end result was her nearly drowning until her magic finally manifested and Milyan got sprayed in the face by the bath taps. Father was _not_ pleased at all.  
“Has Rosaline taken you to Diagon Alley yet?” Sevi asks, and Ailla’s smile dims, before fading altogether.  
“No,” she says shortly, and Sevi shoots her other siblings a glance.  
“Well, we all need to go once our book lists arrive. Why don’t we make a day of it once they’re here?”  
“Florian Fortescue’s ice cream is the best,” Carric chips in. “We can all go and get sundae’s afterwards.”  
“We can invite Gwen as well, can’t we?” Brayden says as they all begin to push their trollies towards the wall, “She’s starting in September as well, isn’t she?”  
Ailla perks up at this and is soon happily chattering away with Brayden about what kind of books she’ll need.  
Carric and Sevi bring up the rear, hustling a sulky looking Liza in front of them, and a dreamily humming Elodie. Milyan has already gone on ahead somewhere, probably to meet the driver.  
“Ailla hasn’t mentioned Rosaline at all in her letters,” Carric murmurs.  
“Well, she and her mum don’t always get on,” Sevi mutters back.  
“Nah. Something’s up.”

* * *

The reunion in the Leaky Cauldron is loud and rambunctious. Aunt Lowena and Uncle Antoine hug and kiss all of them in turn, even Liza whose face could sour milk. Guinevere is as enthusiastic, grabbing Ailla by the hand.  
“Ailla!” she exclaims, practically doing a little jig. “Oh, Ailla I can’t believe it! We’re finally going to Hogwarts together!”  
Ailla can’t help but jump up and down a little bit as well. “What do you think we’ll learn first? What lesson are you most excited for? I want to learn charms! And about plants and potions like Sevi!”  
“I want to learn Charms too,” Gwen exclaims. “And I can’t wait to see all of the creatures! I hope we see unicorns, Ailla! And pixies!”  
"Me too! And we get to try flying as well, Gwen! And see Carric and all the others play Quidditch!”  
“And think of all the new friends we’ll make! Won’t it be lovely!”  
“What house do you think you’ll be in Gwen?”  
“Oooh, I'd love to be Gryffindor! Mum was a Ravenclaw, and Dad was a Hufflepuff, but I’d love to have wonderful adventures like some of the people in Gryffindor House! What about you?”  
“Oh, I’m not sure...I’m not sure where I’d be put…”  
Gwen laughs. “Oh Ailla! You’ll be Ravenclaw, of course! You’re the cleverest person I know, and you’ll be the smartest witch Hogwarts has ever had!”  
Ailla feels her face go pink. “Don’t be silly! You’re really clever! I just…like books!”  
Gwen gives her a knowing smile and squeezes her hand. “Well, we’ll see. I bet you’ll be wonderful though.”

Richard and Avalon arrive, and the greetings start all over again. Gwen finds herself enfolded in a giant bear hug, while Richard picks Ailliena up and spins her around while she squeals.  
The usual catching up takes place around the biggest table in the pub. Avalon and Richard are both cheerful and laughing, so bright and so hopelessly _Gryffindor_ that the younger ones don’t notice the shadows under their eyes, the paleness of Richard’s face, the new scar above Avalon’s eye.  
Sevi hands each of her siblings a leather pouch of money. “Don’t be idiots.” She tosses the last one to Carric. “Make sure Ailla gets her stuff. I’ll be here, okay?”  
Liza opens her mouth, possibly to protest, but Sevi gives her a warning look, and a tiny shake of the head, and she seems to change her mind.  
“Carric, Brayden; you two are in charge of Ailla. That money is for her school supplies; if you misuse it I _will_ find out and I _will_ let Liza curse you. Liza, don’t punch anyone. Elodie, if you come back with another gold cauldron, I will walk you back to the shop and make you get your money back just like I did last time.”  
She waves a hand, and Caric grabs one of Ailla’s hands, and Brayden grabs the other.  
“Better not lose her,” Sevi says, before turning back to the table.  
Ailla looks back over her shoulder curiously as she’s led towards the back of the pub. Aunt Lowena has stayed behind with Avalon, Richard and Sevi. All of them are whispering intensely, and she can see Aunt Lowena is frowning.  
They head out through the backdoor, and Uncle Antoine draws his wand, tapping the bricks in the centre of the wall. The begin to shuffle outwards as Ailla watches wide eyed, and form an arch leading onto a crooked, bustling street.  
Ailla has never been to Diagon Alley before, mainly because Mother thought it was too much hassle to have the ‘little ones’ around when trying to collect the older children’s school supplies. She finds herself shrinking closer to her brothers as they head out onto the winding road. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen so many _people_. The street is packed, and she find herself clinging even tighter to Carric and Brayden’s hands because she’s scared of being swept away.  
“Okay, we all need our books. Ailla and Gwen both need robes, their wands and I suppose a pet or something if they want one.”  
“I’d love a pet!” Gwen pipes up, her face glowing. “Can I have one Dad? Please?”  
Antoine laughs and smiles indulgently. “Of course you can. But shall we go and their robes done first, so we’re not carrying animals or heavy books around the streets?”

Ailla finds herself swept into _Madame Malkin’s Robes For All Occasions_ , where a boy about her age is already standing on a stool while a short witch with white hair bustles around him with a pin cushion.  
“Ah, more first years?” she says, giving them a warm smile as they troop into the shop. “Welcome, welcome!”  
“Good morning, Madame,” Uncle Antoine says, “We’ve come to purchase two sets of robes.”  
Gwen is already off around the shop, her eyes wide and the beautiful silk robes on the display, embroidered with butterflies which are actually fluttering her wings.  
“Why doesn’t this young lady hop up on the other stall?” Madame Malkin says, gesturing to Ailla. “And the other can join her when this young gentleman is done?”  
Ailla finds herself clambering up onto the stall next to the boy, while Carric and Brayden sit on two comfy chairs next to what can only be the other boy’s parents, and Antoine follows Gwen to listen to her exclaiming over the exquisite robes. Elodie heads off to buy her own supplies with a little wave, purse jangling, and Ailla isn’t too convinced they won’t end up with another golden cauldron on their hands.  
She glances over at her soon to be fellow student. He’s short, but still taller than her, with curly golden-brown hair. He gives her a smile, his rosy cheeks dimpling, and she can see that he has a gap between his two front teeth.  
“Hi! I’m Conner!” he says, his grin widening. “How’re you? Are you going to Hogwarts as well?”  
“Um,” Ailliena fiddles nervously with the end of her braid, unused to such a barrage of words from someone she’s never met before. “Um, hello. My name’s Ailliena. Um. Yes. I’m going to Hogwarts as well.”  
“I’m so excited! Are you excited? Have you done any magic yet? I can’t believe that it’s real! My mum and dad were so surprised when the teacher turned up at the house with the letter!” Indeed, his parents, talking softly to each other in the comfy chairs near the dressing rooms, are looking a little shell-shocked. “What did your parents say?” he says eagerly, vibrating with so much excited energy that Madame Malkin nearly sticks him with a pin.  
“Um. Not much.” She shrugs, her eyes flicking to the enchanted tape measure which is floating around her. “I didn’t get a teacher or anything. Just the letter. But all my brothers and sisters have gone already, and my father went as well, so he already knew all about it.”  
“Wow, your whole family is magic? That’s so cool! How many brothers and sisters do you have?”  
“Nine,” she replies, lifting her arms so she can be measured from shoulder to ankle. “I’m the youngest. What about you?”  
“Well! Technically I’m the second youngest, but I’m also the second oldest! Soooooo I’m kinda the biggest deal in my house. What magic can your brothers do? Is it different from boys to girls?”  
She shakes her head. “No, boys and girls do the same magic. Some people are better at some types than others though. My big sister Sevi is really good as potions, but my other sister Liza is very good at curses and jinxes, and my big brother Carric is really good at flying; he’s on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and he’s the best player in the school,” she says proudly.  
“WOW!” Conner’s eyes grow wide with a mixture of awe and excitement, “I really didn’t understand much of what you just said BUT it sounds amazing.” His eyes glaze over for a few seconds as it seems his mind has wandered off, until suddenly he snaps back to reality.  
“WAIT! YOU HAVE NINE BROTHERS & SISTERS!? What is Christmas like? And how long do you have to wait for the bathroom in your house? I bet it’s ages, the older ones always take the longest…”  
She giggles. “Christmas is normally at my cousin Gwen’s house with her parents. And we’ve got quite a few bathrooms, so it’s not too bad; and besides, everyone’s normally at Hogwarts, except during the holidays. And my brothers Richard and Silas have moved out now, and Sevi’s moving out this year. Richard’s an auror you know; a dark wizard catcher, and he works for the Ministry of Magic going around and stopping evil people.” There’s a hint of pride in her voice.  
A wide smile spreads across Conner’s face as he starts to giggle. “You don’t half speak like a grown up, don’t you? I wish I could speak like you, might help me get taller. I’m the shortest one in my family see: Rose, my big sister, even sitting down can pat me on the head with no trouble and my not so little sister Beth, towers above me…HEY! Do you know about any spell to do with tallness? And growing? Pleassssse you’ve got to tell me if you do!” he begs.  
She considers this. “I know there’s a spell called Engorgio, but I think that just makes everything about you bigger, rather than making you taller, and I think it’s second year charm because I read about it in ‘The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2’ when Carric was home for the holidays. Anyway, I don’t think the way I talk will make anyone taller; I’m shorter than you.” She hesitates for a moment. “Is the way I talk wrong? Do you think people will laugh at me? I’ve never been to a school before.”  
Conner looks extremely panicked for a moment before regaining his composure. “Laugh at you? NO WAY! You’re going to have swarms of friends! And….AND Fans! You’re going to be the coolest witch EVER! Just wait and see! Fletchers Promise!” He traces his finger in the shape of a cross over an arrowhead pendent swinging from his neck. “Fletchers Promise!”  
Ailla goes a bit pink. “Do you really think so? I’ve never really had a friend before, except for Gwen.  
Conner seems to flounder for a moment, before saying in a flustered voice, “Caaaaaaan we be friends? Like super magic buddies? WAIT! What’s your surname?”   
She beams. “I’d like that! Then we’ll both have a friend when we go to Hogwarts! My surname’s Devereux, is yours Fletcher? Is that where the promise comes from?”  
“YEP! Master Conner Fletcher, wizard-to-be at your service Miss…A’illa…Devereux…Super Witch! Sorry I’m realllllly bad with names! A Fletchers Promise is a promise from the beginning, my dad says. It’s not a promise of wealth or fame, but a promise of a story; with ups, downs but always a good ending!”   
“I love a good story,” she says, as Madame Malkin finishes up the hems of their robes. “And don’t worry about my name, it’s good too many vowels in it. It’s Eye-Lay-Na.” She sounds it out slowly. “But most people just call me Ailla, like ‘Eye-La’.” She hops down from the stool, and watches as Carric heads over to pay Madame Malkin. “So, you’re muggle-born then?”  
“Yes, I think so? Is muggles the ones with no magic? I’m still learning the words. And you and mom have the same name! WELL kinda the same name, it sounds the same; my mums called Elaina! Which you say Ee-lay-Na! I think one of my great-great-great-grandads had magic? If that helps?”   
"Yes, muggles are people without magic, but there are lots of muggle children who go to Hogwarts, maybe because they had a magical ancestor, or maybe just something else.”  
“Oooooo spoopy! I can’t wait to learn about dragons and all the other mystic animals! I thought they were just stories in books! And you know...magic”  
“They have whole lessons on that!” she says eagerly. “You can learn all about magical creatures!”  
“Ailliena…” Carric suddenly interjects. “I’m glad that you’ve made a new friend, but I think his parents want to go and buy the rest of his things.”  
Conner’s parents are indeed standing there with his new robes in a bag, and Gwen has finished looked around the clothes with her father.  
“Sorry Mom! Sorry Dad! Catch you later, right Ailla?” Conner asks.  
“Sure!” she says with a little wave. “I’ll see if I can find you on the platform before we get on the train. Maybe you can sit with me and Gwen? This is my cousin Gwen by the way. She’s going to be starting Hogwarts with us as well. Gwen, this is Conner.”  
“Lovely to meet you!” Gwen says, giving him a sunny smile. “Of course, we’d love to sit on the train with you Conner!”  
“That would be greeeeaaaatttt,” he proclaims, giving both of them that gap-toothed smile again. “Great to meet you Ailla, you too Gwen!” He gives them a little wave, before following his parents out of the shop.  
Ailla giggles as she watches him begin practically skipping in between them both as they headed down the street.  
“Gwen!” she says, turning back to her cousin excitedly. “I made my first friend! Well, my first friend who isn’t you of course!”  
“Oh Ailla, he seems really lovely!” Gwen says, grabbing her hands and bouncing up and down. “I can’t wait for us to get to know everyone!”  
“Well Gwen,” her father says, smiling fondly at her. “To go to Hogwarts, you’re going to need your robes. Your turn!”  
Gwen shots Ailla one last beam, before hopping up onto the stool for her measurements.

When they exit the shop, and Carric finally gives in to Ailla’s wide-eyed silent pleading.  
“Fine, we’ll do books next.”  
She gives an excited squeak and bounces up and down.  
Their little procession heads to Flourish and Blots, which is full of children with schoolbook lists and their parents. Carric and Brayden hunt for the new books they need, and then end up having ten minutes of solid panic when they realise that they’ve lost their charge.  
“This is your fault, Brayden,” Carric says, manoeuvring his way through the throng.  
“My fault? How is this my fault?”  
“You’re ten months older than me, everything is your fault because you’re the oldest. You should have been holding her hand!”  
“I thought you were holding her hand; you’re the one with the money, you said you were in charge!”  
Finally, after Carric has tried to climb up a bookcase in order to see over the many heads, they find their little sister curled up on the floor next to a stack of books, reading through _The Dream Oracle_ by Inigo Imago. She has amassed quite a collection, which Brayden and Carric are forced to wrestle off of her, brandishing the assigned reading list.  
“You won’t have enough room in your trunk, Ailla! And there’s a whole library at Hogwarts!”  
She pouts at Carric’s words, but lets Brayden begin to help her put them back on the shelves.  
“ _Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes…The Decline of Pagan Magic…A Guide to Counter Legilimensy_ …Ailla, we don’t even know a Legilimens!”  
She shrugs. “Maybe I’ll need it one day! And they all looked really interesting!”  
“Tell you what,” Brayden says. “You can have _Hogwarts: A History_ , okay?”  
“Brayden, it’s massive. If you give her that, we’ll never see her again. She’ll be locked in her room until we drag her out for school,” Carric protests.  
“Pleeeease Carric?” Ailla clutches the thick leather book to her chest like it’s a baby. “Pleaaase? I won’t have any new books of my own because I’ve got all of Elodie’s old books.”  
He rolls his eyes, but pulls out the coin purse. “Fine. One book. But it’ll be boring. It’s all old information, I’m not even in it.”  
“Well, when you’re in a book, tell me and I’ll buy it,” she says, giving him a slightly too sweet smile.  
“Careful Ailla, I feel like you’re being sarcastic now, and that might make me too sad to buy you the book.”  
“What? No! I’m serious, I’d read a book on you!”  
“You know, that sad thing is, she probably actually would,” Brayden says, snatching the coin purse from Carric and heading up to the till.

They pick up two nice cauldrons, and enough ingredients for the first term for each of the girls before Gwen finally gets her wish and they head into the _The Magical Menagerie_.  
Ailla instantly falls in love with the little dog sitting in a cage near the tills. “Carric, can I have a puppy?”  
“Ask Liza.”  
“Liza, can I have a puppy?”  
Her big sister, who up until this point had been silently following them around flicking through a magazine narrows her eyes. “No. And that’s a cruppie.”  
The creature in the cage lets out a bark and begins to lick Ailla’s fingers through the bars, wagging both of its tails.  
"Oh. Can I have a cruppie?”  
“Yeah. Okay. It’ll be a laugh.”  
Ailla’s face lights up. “Oh wow!” She’s stuck her whole hand in buy this point and was rubbing the cruppie’s belly. “Look! He’s such a good boy! He already loves me! We’re going to be best friends!”  
“Ailla…” Carric pinches the bridge of his nose. “You won’t be able to bring him to Hogwarts. He’d have to stay at home. With Father. All alone. He wouldn’t get walks or played with. He’d be sad.”  
Ailla’s lip trembles slightly. “I don’t want him to be sad…what can’t I take him with me?”  
“Because you’re too young to have a licence. And they try and eat muggles sometimes.”  
“I’d train him. He’d be a good boy.” She sniffs sadly.  
“Alizarine, you did this,” Carric hisses, and dodges the swift kick she tries to send him. “Well, we can’t always have what we want Ailla.”  
“Ailla! What are you getting?” Gwen says, darting over with a little cage. “Father got me this lovely bird, look!” She frowns. “What’s wrong? Why are you sad?”  
Ailla sniffs again, the cruppie now nuzzling her hand. “I’m not allowed to buy him Gwen!”  
“No! But he’s so cute!”  
“What part of THEY EAT MUGGLES do you not understand, Ailla?” Carric says in slight exasperation.  
“Still think it would be funny,” Liza mutters.  
“No. No it wouldn’t Liza. Say goodbye to your murder-baby Ailla. Let’s try Eeylops.

Fifteen minutes later, Ailla has perked up a bit and is carrying a little cage down the street with a tiny brown owl perched inside, her head under her wing.  
Gwen is happily feeding her new songbird treats, while Liza eyes it dubiously.  
“You might not get away with that, Gwen,” she says, eyeing up the little bird.  
“Why not? It’s a bird, just like an owl!”  
Alizarine shrugs and sighs. “I suppose we could always transfigure it to get it past the teachers.  
“Could have transfigured the cruppie,” Ailla mutters mutinously, and dodges the swat at her head.  
“We can still take the owl back,” Liza threatens, and Ailla gives her a glare, hugging her cage. “No! Morgana is my owl! No take-baksies!”  
“Depends how much you piss us off for the rest of the trip,” Carric mutters.  
The only sound when they step inside Ollivander’s is the tinkling of a little bell somewhere back in the shop. The stillness is so sudden and so complete that even Gwen’s bird stops tweeting.  
Ailla catches her breath slightly at the stillness, but it is not the empty, echoing stillness of home; rather a heavy, ancient stillness like a library or a church. The very air seemed to tingle with forgotten and deep magics, and she felt herself shiver, although not in fear. She wants to explore, to reach up and run her fingers over the boxes stacked to the ceiling, and only Carric’s firm hand on her shoulder stops her.  
“Antoine Hearthsong.”  
Everyone in the shop jumps.  
A pale man with silver eyes is sitting behind a desk. Ailla doesn’t think he was there when they came in; but perhaps he was sitting so still that none of them saw him. Even his hair is white. He looks like he’s been formed from snow, or perhaps starlight.  
“Pear wood and phoenix feather. 11 inches, slightly springy.”  
He stands with a whisper of robes, and walks over to them, and she can see the he has very white, papery hands.  
“Carric Devereux,” Ollivander continues. “Black walnut, 14 ½ inches long. Rigid. Phoenix feather core. Drawn to honesty and self-awareness.”  
Carric shuffles, looking slightly spooked. “Yurp. That’s me.”  
“And your brother…walnut, phoenix feather. 12 inches, rigid. The same phoenix for both wands.” He gives them both a piercing look.  
“H-hey Mr Ollivander,” Brayden says, giving a slightly nervous smile.  
“And is that your sister outside…hers was an interesting one. Yew, and dragon heartstring, a powerful combination. Drawn to cursework.”  
“Oh, we know…” Carric mutters.  
“And this…” Ollivander’s eyes rest on the two girls. “This must be your youngest sister. Miss Ailliena Devereux. And this Miss Guinevere Hearthsong.”  
“Good afternoon Mr Ollivander,” Gwen says politely, giving him a warm smile. “It’s lovely to meet you.  
“Hello,” Ailla whispers in a quiet voice, before adding, “It’s amazing how you can remember all of those wands, sir.”  
A ghost of a smile flickers over the old man’s face. “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Miss Devereux. Your father’s…blackthorne and dragon heartstring- the same wood as your brother’s mother. Warriors wands, both of them. Incredibly loyal as well. Your mother…well. Chestnut and dragon heartstring, 7 ¾ inches, rigid.”  
Ailla opens her mouth to ask what her mother’s wand means, but closes it again when Carric steps on her foot.  
“Now, who shall go first?”  
“You can, Gwen,” Ailla says. “I got my robes done first, so it’s your turn.”  
“Oh no, Ailla, you can go first, I don’t mind!”  
“Gwen, just go first or the two of you will be sitting here all day,” Brayden says with a grin.  
Ailla perches on a spindly chair next to the others and watches eagerly as her cousin holds out her wand arm and Mr Ollivander’s tape measure begins to float around her.  
“Hm…cherry, 9 ½ inches, unicorn hair, rigid…” Gwen’s hardly taken the wand before it’s snatched off of her. “No no…hmm…hazel, dragon heartstring, 13 inches, nice and springy.”  
Gwen gives it a wave, before the wand is once more taken from her hand. “No! Try this! Pear and unicorn hair, 11 ¾ inches…”  
Gwen flicks the wand, but-  
“No! Not quite, not quite!”  
The pile of boxes begins to grow as Gwen spends the next ten minutes testing wands. Ollivander is growing more excited by the minute. “We’ll find you the perfect fit, Miss Hearthsong, just you see…oh, now I wonder…”  
He pulls another box down. “Rowan and phoenix feather, 12 ¼ inches, quite flexible, give it a wave!”  
Gwen takes the wand, and crimson sparks erupt from the end.  
Antoine claps enthusiastically, almost looking as if he’s going to cry with joy and pride. “I can’t believe it! My little girl, getting her wand…I’m so proud of you, Guinevere!”  
Gwen is beaming with happiness, and Ailliena runs and hugs her. “Oh wow Gwen, it’s beautiful!”  
“Rowan and phoenix feather…” Ollivander gently takes the wand and places it into the box, beginning to wrap it for her. “A wand for the clearheaded and pure-hearted…a protector. A rare core as well…I think we can expect much from you, Miss Hearthsong.”  
Gwen is flushed, and Ailla gives her another squeeze as she takes the parcel from Mr Ollivander. “Thank you sir,” she says, and he gives her a vague smile.  
"Use it well, Miss Hearthsong. And now, Miss Devereux.”  
Ailla feels her stomach flutter as he turns to her. “Shall we?”  
She gives a little nod, and holds out her right arm.  
“Hm…applewood and dragon heartstring…” The same process begins again, wand box after wand box flying down from the shelves. Ailla tries aspen and unicorn hair, ‘good for outstanding charmwork’; beech and phoenix feather ‘for the wise beyond years’; fir and dragon heartstring; ‘I nearly sold one like this to your father’; silver lime ‘often used by seers’.  
Her time is slightly shorter than Gwen’s; it is after six and a half minutes that the wand she is holding lets out a puff of steam and a shower of silver sparks.  
“Excellent, excellent Miss Devereux! Hmmm, willow and unicorn hair, 14 inches, flexible…good for charm work of course, but favours healing. Willow often selects those with potentially, and sometimes deep-seated, often unwarranted insecurity. Unicorn hair; not the most powerful, but the most loyal, and the most difficult to turn to the dark arts. Yes. I’m interested to see what you achieve, Miss Devereux.”

They leave the shop with their parcels and rejoin Liza who is sitting outside the shop with the animals and the rest of their purchases. She’s sitting with someone, and they seem to be arguing in hushed tones. Their bickering is quickly interrupted by Guinevere, who launches herself at the second girl.  
“Cinder!”  
The golden-haired girl looks up and catches Guinevere in a warm hug. “Hello you. Bought your wand?”  
“Yes! It’s rowan, and phoenix feather!”  
“Good for you Gwen. Sounds like a solid, Gryffindor wand.” Cinder gives her a wink, and Alizarine snorts.  
“Don’t listen to her Gwen. Gryffindor is full off idiots with big mouths who like to run around acting before they think and charging into trouble.”  
Carric makes a scandalised noise, and he and Cinder both round on Alizarine.  
“That’s rich coming from a-”  
“I’m sorry, who won the cup? I think-”  
“You’re just bitter because you could never-”  
“Children, please,” Uncle Antoine cries, and they fall silent. “It doesn’t matter what house you are. None of them are better than the other, and you should all just be proud to be at a fine school where you can all work together and celebrate and utilise your differences. After all, the world would be very boring if we were all the same, wouldn’t it?”  
“Spoken like a true Hufflepuff,” Liza mutters, but too quietly for Uncle Antoine to hear.  
“Well, it’s lovely seeing you all – well, most of you, anyway,” Cinder says with a pointed look at Alizarine. “But I’d better be off. Well done Gwen; I’ll probably see you at Kings Cross.”  
“And I’ll see you on the quidditch pitch,” Liza says sweetly, waving her off. “God I hate her,” she mutters as Cinder makes her way down the alleyway. “Stupid, smug…”  
“Yes yes, we know you and Cinder can’t stand each other,” Brayden says, rolling his eyes.  
“Didn’t you two used to be best friends?” Carric says, raising an eyebrow.  
“That was before.” Liza’s answer is short.  
“Before what?” Ailla pipes ask.  
“Before quidditch,” Carric says, with a smirk. “They’re both too competitive, and both hate to lose. Which is why it’s a shame that Liza’s on the worst team in Hogwar-”  
“Alizarine, wand away!” Uncle Antoines’ voice is stern. “I don’t want to have to give your father a bad report on any of you.”  
The wand slowly lowers, and retreats back into Alizarine’s pocket. Antoine sighs. “Right. I think that’s enough excitement for one day. Let’s meet the others and get some ice-cream.  
They all begin to head back down towards Florean Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlour, Ailla and Gwen arm in arm.  
“This is going to be the best year ever,” Gwen whispers in Ailla’s ear as they trail after the others. “I just know it!”


	3. Aboard The Hogwarts Express

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We continue and the chapters get longer and my sleep cycle loses all hope!  
> Massive thank you to Marie and Ruby who co-wrote their characters introductions with me! Also a massive thank you to everyone I have badgered over messenger like 'AND WHAT WOULD YOUR CHARACTER DO NOW?!' This is not the end of that, be warned. You know who you all are.  
> Big thanks to Chris and Richard who seem to be my personal cheerleaders and late night characterisation conversation victims.
> 
> And now...WE GOTTA GET BACK TO HOGWARTS!

* * *

The morning is peaceful and still. Birds sing softly in the branches of the old oak tree which grows in the gardens of the Devereux Estate. Drops of dew hang from blades of the perfectly kept grass like diamonds around the neck of a fine lady. Mist blankets the lawns, tinted a deep peach by the light of the rising sun.  
“BRAYDEN!”  
The peace is shattered like a dropped glass.  
“BRAYDEN, BRAYDEN, BRAYDEN, BRAAAAYDEN!”  
The young man in question opens an eye, roused unwillingly from what was a rather pleasant slumber by something heavy jumping on top of him.  
“Gah!” He recoils from the wide pair of green-blue eyes which are right next to his face. “Merlin’s beard, Ailla! What do you want?”  
His sister beams at him. “It’s the first of September!” she exclaims, bouncing up and down on him. He thinks that he hears one of his ribs creak in protest; although that could be his bed springs.  
“Why does that mean you have to crush me to death?” he gasps, pushing her off him.  
She rolls off the bed with a thump, but bounces back up again, flinging her arms around his neck. “IT MEANS I’M GOING TO HOGWARTS!”  
There’s a loud banging on the wall from the room next door. “AILLA, WE ALL KNOW YOU’RE GOING TO HOGWARTS, NOW SHUT UP!”  
“CARRIC I CAN’T, I’M TOO EXCITED!” She begins bouncing on Brayden’s bed, and he lets out a wail of protest as the warm covers are knocked off him and he’s exposed to the morning chill.  
“IT’S FIVE FIFTY-FIVE IN THE FUCKING MORNING; WHOEVER IS SCREAMING IS GOING TO GET FUCKING CURSED!” comes a screech from the floor above them.  
“Great, now you’ve pissed off Liza!” Brayden groans, trying to pull the covers back over him.  
Even that doesn’t deter Ailla’s mood; she’s too busy jumping up and down chanting, “Hogwarts! Hogwarts! Hogwarts!”  
“What is all that yelling?” comes an indignant voice from the doorway.  
“HOGWARTS, HOGWARTS, HOGWARTS!”  
Elodie’s scowl shifts slightly, and she starts tapping her hand in time to the rhythm. “Oh, actually that is quite a good beat…” She begins to hum thoughtfully, before beginning to harmonise with Ailla’s chants, somehow. “Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts…hmmmm….”  
“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU ALL!” Liza’s still screaming through the floorboards at them.  
Brayden buries his head under his pillow, trying -and failing- to block out the noise.  
“THAT’S IT, I’VE HAD ENOUGH!”  
He raises his head in time to see Carric throw a glass of water over the two girls, and the chants rapidly dissolve into shrieks.  
“CARRIC WHY?!”  
“MY PYJAMA’S ARE WET!”  
Brayden’s pillow flies through the air and hits Ailla in the face. “IT’S SIX AM, WILL YOU ALL GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM?!”

* * *

The car ride to the station is a mixture of people dozing off against the windows and Ailla looking like she’s about to take off because she’s so full of nervous energy. Sevi meets them at Kings Cross and helps the driver load their trunks onto their trolleys, giving him a curt nod as she does so.  
Ailla’s quietened down now slightly, and is looking rather queasy as they approach the ticket barrier between platforms 9 and 10. She’s too small to see over the top of her trolley, so the driver is walking along with them, pushing it for her. Carric reaches out and ruffles her hair slightly. “You’ll be fine,” he whispers, and she shoots him a look like a dying duck.  
“What if I get there and they say it’s a mistake?” she whispers. “What if I can’t do any magic? What if everyone hates me?”  
“You’ll be fiiiiine,” he says again, rolling his eyes.  
”You promise?”  
“I promise.”  
They head through the ticket barrier and emerge on Platform 9¾ to the sounds of screeching owls and shouting children.  
“Let’s find a compartment,” Carric says over the din, and the driver follows his lead, pushing Ailla’s trolley towards the train, manoeuvring around a tiny blonde girl flanked by two tall boys.  
He heaves her heavy trunk into the rack of an empty compartment, and puts her small owl cage on the seat. Carric hesitates in the corridor, glancing at his sister.  
“Okay…so. Do you want to come in the same compartment as me and Brayden? Or do you want to go in with Gwen? It might be a good idea; you could make some new friends in your year.”  
“So…I’d be in a different compartment to you and Brayden?” Ailla asks, her voice rising an octave or so.  
“Brayden and I would just be next door. Buuuuut…well, you need to make your own friends, you know? You don’t want your big brother’s cramping your style.”  
“And you’ll have Gwen,” Brayden chips in, heaving his trunk up into the corridor as well. “And if there’s any trouble, you could just come and let us know, okay? But you can come in with us if you want.”  
“It’s okay,” she says in a tiny voice. “I’ll go in with Gwen.” She gives a little nod, and Carric feels a bit like he’s just abandoned a puppy. He grits his teeth as he lugs his trunk into the next compartment along. _She needs to learn. She needs to stand on her own feet. She needs to be independent._ He repeats this to himself like a mantra. “Let’s see if we can find Gwen, okay?” he says, hopping down from the train and scanning the platform. He sees Ailla jump down beside him, and she’s finally still for a second before she’s running off over to Sevi and flinging her arms around her neck.  
“I wish you were coming as well!” she wails, and Sevi laughs and gives her a squeeze.  
“I’ve done my time!” their big sister declares, kissing her on the forehead. “Write to me and tell me all about the sorting, okay?”  
“Okay!” Ailla says, giving her another squeeze, before letting go with a little sigh. “I wish…I wish Father had come.”  
Carric winces slightly, and an odd look washes over Sevi’s face, though she says nothing. The driver, who has been standing there silently with the empty trolleys reaches out and pats Ailla awkwardly on the head.  
“You’ll be alright,” he says in a gruff voice. “Don’t worry too much about the sorting.”  
“Um. Thanks,” Ailla says, giving him a small smile.  
“AILLA!”  
“Oh! There’s Gwen, got to go!” she cries, before spinning on her heel and darting over to her cousin.  
She doesn’t see Sevi begin a furious argument with the driver, but Carric does. He frowns slightly, taking in Sevi’s wildly gesticulating hands and hushed, hissing voice, but then Morgan Carter nearly smacks him in the head with her broom and he spins around to swear at her.  
“Shit Carter, you trying to murder me?”  
“Why would I do that?” she says, giving him a gap-toothed grin. “I spend too much time stopping bludgers from hitting that pretty face of yours, Devereux, to try and off you now.”  
She begins loading her possessions into his compartment, including a very grumpy looking cat. Carric sighs in resignation.  
“Oh good, Morgan, Carric, lovely to see you again!”  
He sees Morgan grit her teeth as a sugar sweet voice pipes up behind him. He turns slowly to see a chirpy redhead standing there, giving them a radiant beam, and takes a deep breath, placing himself tactically between her and Morgan. “Hello Celuria. How was your summer? You’re looking well.”  
“Oh, I know!” she says, preening. “My summer was wonderful, thank you! How was yours?”  
“Yeah, it was alright.”  
“Glad to hear it! Been practising your Quidditch? We can’t have another Slytherin win, surely?” she gives a little laugh, and Carric has to put his hand on Morgan’s shoulder as her face starts going red, glad that he’s in the way of her fist and Celuria’s face.  
His action, however, only causes Celuria to become more animated. “Oh! Are you two finally a couple?”  
“WHAT? WHY WOULD YOU-”  
“EW, CELURIA, GROSS-”  
She gives that little tinkling laugh again. “Oh, there’s no need to get upset about it! I’ll leave you two be! Ciao!” She gives a little wave and sashays off down the corridor.  
Morgan and Carric look at each other, slightly shell-shocked. “You’d think people would have realised by now that I’m a massive lesbian, wouldn’t you?” Morgan sighs, and Carric can’t help but laugh.

* * *

When Ailla finally finds Conner, he’s bouncing up and down so hard he’s practically vibrating.  
“Ailliena!” he cries, and launches himself at her, giving her a hug. She hugs him back, pleasantly surprised by his enthusiasm.  
“Hi Conner!” she says, giving his parents a polite smile. “Was your journey here okay?”  
“It was crazy! I can’t believe I had to run through a ticket barrier! And look at that train! Is it a magical train?!”  
“Yup! It’s the Hogwarts Express, and it’s like a muggle steam train, but it runs on magic!”  
Conner’s eyes go wide. “That’s awesome!”  
Gwen comes up behind them. “Hello Conner! We’ve got a compartment in Coach C, do you want to come in with us?”  
The girls show him the way, and his parents join them onboard, helping lift his heavy trunk into the luggage rack with theirs. Gwen leans out the window and checks the station clock. “Oh! It’s nearly eleven! I need to say goodbye to Mum and Dad!”  
She dashes off the train quickly, running over to her parents to hug them tightly.  
Conner’s parents squeeze him tightly. “Don’t forget to write to us and tell us all about it!” his Mum says, kissing him.  
Ailla sits down in the corner seat, staring out the window, trying to see if Sevi’s still in the crowd.  
“Where are your parents, Ailliena dear?”  
She spins around and looks up at Conner’s mothers kind face. “Oh. Um. They didn’t come.”  
His mum frowns. “Then who dropped you off here?”  
She shrugs. “My big sister.” She sees the _look_ Conner’s parents give each other.  
“Well, you have a wonderful first term too then, dear.” His mum says and before she knows it, Conner’s mum has given her a hug as well. She’s warm and soft and smells like some kind of light floral perfume, so different from her own mother’s designer musk. Strangely, she finds herself blinking back tears.  
“Thank you Mrs Fletcher,” she says, feeling rather choked up.  
“Now you two don’t get up to too much trouble, will you?” Conner’s dad says, winking at them both as the pair of them leave the compartment.  
Ailla turns to look at Conner slightly awkwardly.  
“Why didn’t your parents come?” he asks. There’s no malice in his tone, rather an insistent curiosity. She sighs.  
“My father…” Her lips twist slightly. “He’s too busy. And my mother is in France.”  
“But it’s your first day of school! How can they be too busy for that?”  
She lets out a little bitter snort. “Very easily, Conner.”  
He frowns. “Well, one day they’ll realise that you’re brilliant and I bet they’ll feel like right idiots.”  
She lets out a surprised laugh despite herself. “I wish I had your confidence in me!”  
“We’ll get there!” he grins at her, and then gives Gwen a little wave as she rejoins them. “Come on! I want to wave out the window!”  
The three of them crowd round and Conner shoves the window down so that they can all lean out of it. Ailla sees Sevi at the back of the crowd with the driver, and her face lights up as they all shout and wave their goodbyes amidst the slams of the doors, and the screeching of the guards’ whistle. There’s a sudden jerk, and suddenly the train is moving, and white smoke is billowing in the air as all three of them laugh and wave until their arms are sore and Platform 9¾ is out of sight.

The next few hours are spent rather pleasantly. Conner has never seen actual magic before, except in his short trip to Diagon Alley, so Ailla entertains him by performing the few spells she’s learnt from her textbooks, and Gwen extolls the virtues of all the magical creatures she wants to meet.  
Conner and Ailla practise wand grips and pronunciation while Gwen doodles dreamily in her notebook, and when the trolley witch arrives the excited girls buy a bit of everything and make Conner try it _all_.  
“They really mean EVERY flavour!” Ailla exclaims as he rifles through the carboard packet. “So be careful! Carric says he got one which tasted like dog-poo once, but he might have been lying!”  
The man himself pops his head around the door a little while into the journey to make sure that they’re all right.  
“Look at them Brayden,” he says, putting his hands over his heart. “Doesn’t it warm your soul? Aren’t they adorable?”  
He goes to pinch an indignant Ailla’s cheek, but it’s a clever diversion to steal one of her chocolate frogs, and he and Brayden run off cackling, ignoring the indignant shrieks of the first years.  
Gwen’s brother Tancred makes an appearance as well, having headed down to them from the prefects carriage. He regales Conner with several quidditch stories, including the tale of how he broke three bones in a single match, before his fellow prefect can drag him away to continue patrolling the corridors.  
Even Liza sticks her head in on her way past, even if it’s only to say in her usual monotone: “If anyone gives you shit, tell me. You too Gwen. I’ll curse anyone. Bonus points if it’s Hearthsong. Cinder, not your brother, Gwen.”  
And then she’s off in a swoosh of pale hair, leaving Conner looking decidedly nervous.  
“Um…so that’s your sister? The one who’s good at curses?”  
“Mhm,” Ailla says, biting the head off of a chocolate frog.  
“Um…what house is she in? She’s kinda scary…”  
And then of course they explain the houses. Ailla’s slightly worried that the amount of information they’re loading on to Conner might make him explode, but he seems to be drinking it all in eagerly.  
“So, Gryffindor is bravery and chivalry,” he says thoughtfully. “Hufflepuff is loyalty and hard work…Ravenclaw is knowledge and creativity and Slytherin is ambition and cunning?”  
“Yup!” Gwen says, at this point sitting with her shoes off and her legs up on the empty seat next to her. Ailla is dangling upside down from her own seat, legs propped up against the headrest. Conner himself is in a little blanket ball, mostly comprised of their coats. He seems to be slowly coming down from the excited sugar high he had after lunch.  
“Hmmmm…” he says thoughtfully. “How do they choose your house?”  
The two girls glance at each other. “Well, there’s a ceremony called the Sorting Ceremony,” Gwen says after a moment. “But…”  
“But the others all refuse to tell us what happens in it,” Ailla says, in a tone which suggests that this has been a longstanding battle for her. “Apparently it’s meant to be a _surprise._ ”  
“You have to fight a troll,” a cheery voice says from the door. They look up to see a freckled, gap toothed girl with a wavy brown bob. “You’ve got to wrestle it in front of everyon- HEY!”  
The girl’s head is pushed aside roughly by Carric, who winks at them. “Ignore Morgan. She’s been hit on the head by too many bludgers.”  
“Rich coming from you, Devereux!”  
“Oh stop traumatising the first years, Carter!”  
He gives the girl another shove, and she slinks back off into their compartment. “You’ll all be fine,” he says to the nervous looking little faces. “I promise.”

* * *

“How’s your sister finding things?”  
Alizarine turns a page in her book and gives a shrug. “Right now, I don’t give a fuck about my sister because she woke me up at 6am.”  
“Excited or nervous?” Calbyrn says, flopping across her lap. She pats his head vacantly.  
“From the war chant emitting from downstairs, I’m guessing excited.”  
“Awww. Cute. What house you thinking?”  
“Slytherin. I’d put money on it. In fact, I’ve put 5 galleons on it, so she bloody better be.”  
“Another one for the snakes, eh?” Cal says, brushing Liza’s long white-blonde hair out of his face.  
“It’s that or Ravenclaw. That’s what Carric’s bet on. And she does enjoy reading and knowledge and stuff, but I don’t know…she’s a bit of a cold fish. I can see her being pretty ruthless if she had to be.”  
“Well, guess we’ll soon find out…Liza?”  
“Mmmhm?”  
“Are you reading a book on parseltongue?”  
“Yeah. I’m teaching myself how to speak it.”  
“…That’s pretty edgy, even for you.”  
Liza gives a slightly shifty look, before tugging up her sleeve. A small snake is coiled along her wrist. “I got a baby. I want to talk to her.”  
The compartment door slides open, and Liza’s face darkens as she tugs down her sleeve.  
“Hey Devereux. Hey Winterwise.” A tall, statuesque girl of about sixteen is standing in the doorway, her golden hair falling around her shoulders in perfect waves.  
Liza glowers up at her over the top of her book. “The fuck do you want, Hearthsong?”  
“Hey Cinder!” Cal pipes up cheerfully from Liza’s lap.  
The girl’s dark eyes sparkle. “I just thought I’d grace you both with my presence.”  
“You thought? That’s a first, Hearthsong.”  
“So quick witted, if only you could bring that speed to the quidditch field.”  
“I’m sorry Hearthsong, I can’t hear you over the sound of us winning the Quidditch cup last year.”  
“It doesn’t surprise me that you can’t hear. The amount of time you spent on the floor instead of your broom proves you can’t watch your own back. Just because your team carried you, don’t think you have it over me.”  
“Oh Cinder…” Liza lets out a dreamy sigh. “I’m sorry, I can’t help smiling when I see you...I still remember that look of shock on your face when I snatched the snitch out from under your pretty little nose.”  
Cinder huffs at Liza’s words; they annoy her more than they should. “At least you’re acknowledge my pretty face, although I should have known that with the amount of time you spend attached to it.”  
Liza’s pale cheeks flush slightly, and Cal snorts from where he lays sprawled over her lap. “I said your nose was pretty, Hearthsong,” she snaps. “I wouldn’t go as far as to say the whole face.”  
Cal’s eyes move back and forth like he’s watching a muggle tennis match.  
Cinder smiles, knowing she got under Lisa’s skin again.  
“Oh well, I guess me and my face can start meeting someone else after quidditch practice?” Her voice is playful as she winks at Liza.  
Liza snorts. “Do whatever you like. Why would I care?” She turns the page of her book.  
Cal lets out another soft snort and rolls his eyes.   
Cinder giggles as she leans in and pecks Liza on the cheek. “I thought Slytherins were supposed to be good liars?”  
Liza wipes her cheek petulantly. “And I heard Gryffindors were supposed to be good kissers, but I guess we’ll both have to live with disappointment.”  
Cal at this point is keeping score in a small notebook.  
Cinder giggles again, “I guess I just need more practice. I’ll go find someone to train with, shall I?” She laughs as she heads towards the compartment door.  
“Well don’t bloody well look at me,” Cal says, rolling his eyes again.  
“Good luck finding someone willing to snog a seeker who can’t catch a snitch!” Liza calls sweetly after her.  
“Good luck finding someone with strong enough arms to carry you to victory again!” Cinder laughs as she flexes her muscles before leaving the cart.  
Liza scowls at her retreating form, her snake slipping back out her sleeve to coil around her hand fondly.  
“Liza?”  
“Yes Cal?”  
“If you ever come that close to snogging Hearthsong over my head again, we can’t be friends anymore.”  
“Oh, shut up Cal.”

* * *

Despite her best attempts, Nevaeh finds herself starting to cry. She’s been looking forwards to this day for the last three years, but even here she’s unable to escape. Despite herself, she finds herself backing towards the door of the compartment as the two boys tower over her. Both of them are snickering, seemingly amused by the fear in her eyes, and their thin, snake-like lips pull back into nasty grins.  
Nevaeh can’t help but let out another little sob.  
“Now we’re going to be at Hoqwarts again, I can use magic and trust me; you are going to be cursed more times than you can count before the Christmas break!” This cruel remark comes from Aloysius, the smaller of the two boys, who ends his comment with a push. Nevaeh falls onto the seat, her sobs becoming more frequent until they turn into full on blubbering. The taller of the two boys, Ignatius, laughs as she cries harder.  
“Dear me, Nevaeh, you’re such a baby. You better get your act together or you’re going to fall victim to many jinxes this year.” He snickers. “Our dad only let you come to this school so you were out of the house; don’t you dare see it as a reward,” he adds, before looking out of the window to see how close they were to Hogwarts.  
Somehow, Veya finds her voice. “You’re so mean. I’m sure I’ll have lots of friends! I don't think anyone will want to jinx me!” Her voice is small and light, but every word is meant. She looks up at the boys, pushing her blonde curls back from her face to reveal her swollen, red eyes. She hopes she won’t be the victim of such jinxes; her cousins have told her that they are awful things, that will turn her into a ferret, or worse. But, truthfully, she isn’t sure if she is going to be lucky enough to have friends who would like her and who - quite frankly - wouldn’t curse her. She tries to keep up her brave face, although tears are still rolling down her cheeks.  
“Phah!” The boys burst into a fit of laughter. “You? Friends? Nevaeh, you have never had friends. What makes you think people here are going to like a little crybaby like you?” Ignatius says through his laughter.  
The girl bows her head; she doesn’t want to think about it. She just silently hopes that this train ride will end soon as she plays with the cuff of her robe and sobs silently.  
If she’d have looked up, she would have seen the two girls outside the compartment door, shooting each other a look. As it is, the first things she knows about them is the compartment door sliding open.  
“Hi.” Nevaeh looks up at the word and sees a tall, pretty girl of about her age with soft brown eyes and dark hair which curls gently around her shoulders, “Are you a first year too? Would you like to come sit with us?” Her gaze is fixed on Nevaeh, studiously ignored the two boys, although her companion seems to be warily watching them out of the corner of her eye.  
“Really?” Veya pushes some of her blonde hair behind her ears as she smiles a very small smile. She looks to her cousins, before looking back to the other girls very quickly. “I’d love to!”   
“Great!” The first girl says with a warm smile. “Shall we help you with your trunk?”  
“If it’s really heavy, my big brothers and sister are a few compartments down,” the other girl pipes up, her blue-green eyes still flicking over Ignatious and Aloysius. She is smaller than her friend, although she still has a few inches on Nevaeh herself, and she has thick dark hair hanging to her waist. Her next words seem…slightly pointed. “They can come and help if we need them too.”  
“Oh, yes please!” Nevaeh’s heart jumps in her chest with elation. She stands up quickly, brushing all of her curls behind her shoulders and wiping her eyes with the cuff of her sleeves.   
“You don’t really think you’re going, do you, squirt?”  
Veya’s heart sinks as her cousin finally speaks. “You’re going to sit with us until the train arrives.” Aloysius grunts and folds his arms over his chest, standing in front of the shelf that Veya’s trunk was on.   
“Why are you so mean to me? Don’t you just want to get rid of me?” Nevaeh tries to plead with her cousin, but he didn’t budge from where he was standing.   
“You two can leave now.” Ignatious raises his eyebrow as the two girls.  
The smaller of the two girls’ eyes narrow slightly. “You’re both in Slytherin, right?” she says suddenly, and Veya’s cousins glance at each other, slightly thrown. The girl isn’t finished, however. “If you’re in Slytherin, then you must know my sister? Alizarine Devereux? She’s your house seeker. You know, long blonde hair, looks very cross most of the time?”  
For the first time in her life, Nevaeh thinks she sees panic flash across her cousins’ faces. It is clear that the boys _have_ heard of her. They both take a few steps back from the strange girl and frown as if considering the ramifications of this situation. They try to act tough, keeping their arms folded and their eyes narrowed, but Nevaeh hears the slight tremble in Aloysius’s voice as he answers.  
“Yeah. We know her.”  
“Go on, squirt,” Ignatius snaps. “The sooner we get rid of you the better.” He scoffs, trying to look as if this turn of events doesn’t bother him, but there is a mixture of anger and defeat on his face.  
Nevaeh’s eyes gleam. She turns to the girls with a wide smile. “Oh, thank you!” she beams.   
The taller girl gives her a soft smile. “It’s no trouble. We’d love you to sit with us.”  
“If these two could help get your trunk down, then I won’t have to go and ask my sister to help us do it!” the other girl says, smiling sweetly at the boys. “That would be _so_ kind of them!”  
Nevaeh has to stifle a laugh as her cousins pull her trunk down and place it at her feet. She has never seen them this agitated, never seen them faced with somebody that was actually better than them and had made them scared.   
“Thank you,” Nevaeh says as she turns away from the boys.   
“Not so fast.” One of the boys grabs her robes and leans down to whisper in her ear. “This will not be the end of it,” he hisses, before standing back up and stepping away.  
Nevaeh is slightly shaken, but can’t help smiling anyway, pleased to be getting away from her horrid cousins.   
“Come on,” the tall girl says kindly, taking one end of the trunk, while her companion takes the other. “We’re just down at the end.”  
Both of the girls shoot the boys disapproving looks before whisking Nevaeh and her trunk out of the door, towards the other end of the carriage.  
“Thank you so much, that was truly very lovely of the both of you!” Nevaeh gushes as she walks. She is over the moon with how kind the girls have been to her and can’t believe her luck. With her free hand, she wipes her eyes again, but still can’t stop herself from smiling.   
“It was no problem,” the tall girl says, as they slide open the door to their compartment and heave the heavy trunk onto the luggage rack.  
Nevaeh pauses as she sees a small, snoring boy tucked away in the corner of the compartment, but the girls gesture her inside.  
“That’s Conner,” the smaller one explains. “He’s our friend too, but he’s in a slight food coma at the moment.”  
Indeed, there are half empty packets of sweets scattered around the snoozing boy. The smaller girl tucks a coat over him more securely. “We’ll let him rest, it’s a long journey. We’ll wake him up before we get there so he can change into his robes.”  
She takes a seat next to the boy, and the taller girl gestures for Nevaeh to sit opposite them, next to her.  
“Who were those unkind boys?” she asks, looking worried.  
“They’re my cousins.” The Nevaeh looks to the floor shuffling slightly in her seat. “I live with them because…” She trails off, not knowing whether to delve into her life story with some people she just met. But the girls seem so nice, and they _did_ rescue her. She couldn't help it. “I’m an orphan. My parents died a few years ago, so I live with them now,” she concludes, her eyes still on the floor, as she focuses all of her energy on not crying again.   
“They’re your _cousins_?” the tall girl exclaims, glancing over at her companion who looks equally scandalised. “How horrid! Ailla’s my cousin, and I’d never talk to her like that!” Nevaeh looks up as a gentle arm is put around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry!”  
“That must be really hard for you right now,” the other girl, who’s name must be Ailla says, giving her a sympathetic look. “You must...” She seems to struggle for a moment before composing herself. “You must really miss your parents.”  
“It’s okay, usually. I hide away with their old potions books and just learn about them all!” Nevaeh does her best to give a brave smile. “I do miss them. I miss them a lot. It’ll be okay though; hopefully being at Hogwarts means less time with my cousins and more time with people like you! There’s always a bright side!”  
The girls smile back at her. “I’m Gwen, by the way,” the taller one says. “And this is Ailla.”  
“They’re such beautiful names! I’m Nevaeh!” She smiles at Gwen.  
“Lovely to meet you, Nevaeh!” Gwen says, giving her a squeeze, before releasing her from the hug.  
“What house do you think you’d like to be in?” Ailla asks, settling back into her seat.  
“I think I’ll be put in Ravenclaw. My whole family apart from my parents were Slytherin though, but I don’t think I’ll be put there. Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff like my parents, probably!” She nods confidently, but truthfully she’s not so sure. She _is_ kind of scared she will be put in Slytherin; she knows that she has extremely high ambitions, after all, and she _would_ do anything it took to reach them… but…no. Surely, she won’t be placed there? That was the ‘evil’ house, wasn’t it?   
“Most of my side of the family is in Slytherin,” Ailla says, beginning to munch on a pumpkin pasty. “But I’ve got one brother in Ravenclaw, and another in Gryffindor, and my oldest brother was a Gryffindor as well. I’m not sure where I’ll be; Liza says Slytherin, but Carric says Ravenclaw.” She shrugs.  
“My side of the family is all Gryffindor so far,” Gwen adds. “I hope I’m there too! It would be a shame to not be in the same house as Ailla, but we’ll still get classes together!”  
Ailla nods, although Nevaeh thinks she looks rather nervous at the prospect of being separated from Gwen. “Maybe we’ll be in the same house, Nevaeh?”  
“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Nevaeh exclaims, her face lighting up. “I’m sure even if you are in different houses, you will see each other all the time, so it will be okay!” She is getting more and more excited with every passing moment to get to her new school.   
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Gwen fumbles in her satchel and pulled out a hairbrush. “Ailla and I were going to do each other’s hair before we got to Hogwarts, would you like to join in?”  
“Really? Of course!” Nevaeh says excitedly.   
“Lovely!” Gwen exclaims. “Do you like braids?”

* * *

The sky is dark when Tancred sticks his head around the compartment door. He’s spent the last few hours patrolling the corridors, although he managed to sneak in a quick game of exploding snap with Morgan and Carric while Brayden thoughtfully sketched something out in the corner of their compartment.  
His face softens slightly at the sight of the four little first years all curled up fast asleep. Conner is still nesting in the corner, but Ailla has stolen her coat back and is wrapped up in a little ball, cuddling something which looks suspiciously like a book.  
Gwen and a little blonde girl he doesn’t know are leaning against each other, a half forgotten card game on the seat beside them. He chuckles to himself, before walking over and lightly shaking his sister’s shoulder.  
“Gwen?”  
“Hmm?” his sister opens her eyes and blinks sleepily up at him. “Oh, hey Tancred.”  
“We’re nearly at Hogwarts,” he says softly. “You should all probably change into your robes.  
“Oh, okay,” she says, yawning and stretching. “Thank you Tancred.”  
He smiles. “No problem. Hey, Gwen?”  
“Yes?”  
“I’m really proud of you. You’re going to have an amazing time at Hogwarts, and I hope whichever house you’re in makes you really happy.”  
She beams up at him, and gives him a big hug, before beginning to wake the others.

* * *

Ailla brushes down her new robes nervously. They fit well, but have enough fabric tucked away in the seams for them to be let out as she grows. She runs her fingers over the soft fabric, a little smile lighting up her face. In just a few hours she’ll know her house and finally be starting at Hogwarts.  
“Can I come back in?” Conner’s nervous voice comes from the other side of the door. She pulls the blind up and waves him inside, where all three of the girls have finished changing.  
“ _We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time_ ,” A voice suddenly echoes through the train. “ _Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately_.”  
Gwen is beaming, the excited smile on her face matching Ailla’s own.  
“Ailla, I can’t believe it! We’re nearly there!” She lets out a squeak, and grabs Ailla’s hand.  
Nevaeh has dashed over the window, and the others join her, looking out over mountains and wild, dark forests. The sky is a deep violet, fading to indigo, and silver stars are beginning to peak through the clouds.  
“It’s so beautiful…” Nevaeh sighs, and Ailla can’t help but agree. The three of them crowd the window until they roll into a little station, and the train finally comes to a halt.  
They make sure all of their belongings are safely packed away in their trunks before moving to the corridor. All four of them simultaneously take hands, clinging together so they’re not separated by the crowds of students headed for the exit. They hop down onto the platform, and Ailla shivers in the chilly night air. She feels Nevaeh do the same. The four of them huddle together, wondering what to do until they hear a voice calling across the station.  
“First years! First years this way!”  
They shoot each other excited looks, and move across the station until they reach a tall man dressed in a moss green cloak, holding a lantern. He’s frowning, counting heads. “Any more first years? Follow me…right.” He seems satisfied by the number he’s reached. “Watch your step. This way.”  
His has a soft, low voice, and greying brown hair. His pale blue eyes roam over the assembled heads.  
He leads them down a steep narrow path between thick trees. Ailla nearly slips on one of the stone steps, and Conner has to yank her back to her feet before she falls.  
“You’ll get your first sight of Hogwarts around this bend,” the man says as he leads them round a corner.  
As they follow him, there are gasps and whispers of astonishment. A great, glassy black loch stretches out in front of them. On the other side, perched atop a high black mountain sits a castle, tall towers reaching into the sky. It’s thousands of windows are lit with glowing golden light, which reflects in the still black waters of the lake. Ailla is suddenly put in mind of the nightlight she had as a child; a glowing castle which was lit up from the inside and which twinkled in the darkness off her room. She squeezes Gwen’s hand tightly. Her cousin’s eyes are shining, reflecting the light of the castle. Conner’s mouth is wide open, gaping with excitement and astonishment. Nevaeh’s face is rapt, almost disbelieving as if she’s scared the castle will be snatched away from her at any moment. Ailla knows how she feels. After so many years wishing and dreaming and imagining…now that she’s finally here, this hardly feels real.  
“No more than four to a boat,” the man calls, and for the first time, Ailla notices the fleet of boats on the edge of the lake. The four of them head down and all pile into one, and Ailla finds herself sitting in the prow, like a figurehead. All of the boats move at once, without oars or sails, gliding across the water towards the castle. Ailla leans over and runs a hand through the cold water, watching it ripple behind her. She wonders if they’re able to swim in the lake in summer; she loves swimming. Their little fleet heads into a cave, and they all duck to avoid the strands of ivy hanging from the mouth. Inside is a little underground harbour, and they all disembark onto a little pebbly beach.  
The man does a quick headcount before leading them up a set of stone stairs and out onto a soft, damp lawn. Above them towers the castle, and Ailla finds herself reaching for Gwen’s hand again. They follow the man up a set of stone steps to a great oak door, banded with iron. His eyes whiz over them all again. “Everyone here?” He seems satisfied by their number, as he give a little nod, before raising a hand and knocking three times on the castle door.


	4. The Sorting Ceremony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Marie, Darya and Sam for reading through and checking their character accuracy! Thank you to everyone who has still been continually badgered about their characters, you are the best <3 Also, Tim you are the best boyfriend, thank you for writing me a sorting hat song!

* * *

They are waiting in the darkness for what seems like forever, but which is really perhaps five minutes or less. When the doors had opened, a short witch had been standing there with long blonde hair scooped back into a neat bun at the base of her neck. She’d led them into a giant entrance hall, containing another set of doors through which they could hear the rumble of the rest of the school talking. They are now waiting in the small antechamber to the side of the hall where the witch had left them after giving them a quick speech on the different houses and how they could earn and lose house point. Gwen can tell that Ailla is nervous; she has chewed her thumbnail down so low that she’s in danger of making herself bleed. She quickly grabs her cousin’s hand and gently lowers it down from her mouth, giving it a quick squeeze.  
“Professor Cordraco said she’d be back soon,” she whispers, and Ailla nods, the two fat plaits on either side of her face bobbing with the movement. Gwen rubs her thumb over the back of Ailla’s hand reassuringly. “It’s going to be fine.”  
The door opens, and Professor Cordraco is standing there, stern eyes running over them all. “Form up, First Years. Get into a line, please,” she says, and they hastily obey. The woman has a pleasant face, but her dark eyes are quick and intelligent, and suggest that any silliness with be dealt with swiftly.  
Gwen finds herself in front of Ailla, with Nevaeh ahead of her. Her hand, hidden in her robes, continues to hold Ailla’s as they all walk silently after the Professor, who throws open the double doors of the Great Hall and leads them inside.  
Gwen feels her entire face light up as they enter and walk under the ceiling of stars towards the head of the room. She hears Ailla gasp behind her, and her cousin leans forwards to whisper; “It’s enchanted to look like the sky outside! I read about it in my new book!”  
Candles float above them, unsupported, filling the room with a soft golden glow. And then of course, there are the rest of the students. Curious eyes follow them as the line of First Years forms at the head of the hall, in front of the raised teacher’s table. Gwen can see Tancred at Gryffindor table, giving her a little wave, and Carric next to him giving both of them an enthusiastic thumbs up.  
Gwen’s eyes flicker back to Professor Cordraco, who takes a four-legged stool topped by a tatty old wizards’ hat from what must be the headteacher, Professor Gilderling, who is sitting at the top table in a gilded chair. Professor Cordraco sets the stool down, and the hat suddenly twitches and a rip near the brim opens wide as the hat begins to sing.

“ _I thank you, Professor Gilderling,  
For so kindly welcoming,  
These fresh-faced eager students through our door._

_Many here have found their places,  
So, to you, familiar faces,  
Relax, sit back, you've heard this all before._

_New friends, you see, I am the hat,  
Who sorts you and makes sure that,  
You find your home amongst these houses four: _

_See yourself as bold and brave?  
Are pride and honour what you crave?  
Then to you, friend, I offer Gryffindor!_

_Seeing life, did you surmise,  
The best approach is to be wise?  
Your company is found in Ravenclaw!_

_Or perhaps, by cunning, you'll be led,  
To be, always, one step ahead.  
Crave power? Slytherin will give you more!_

_Or perhaps you're simply of a mind,  
That above all else, best to be kind.  
Hufflepuff's the house that you'll adore!_

_I read your mind, I scan your soul,  
I figure out what makes you whole,  
I'll see right down into your very core._

_So, line up, line up, step right this way!  
The sorting starts without delay!  
Ahead of you’s a new world to explore!_”

The hat finishes, and the hall bursts into applause. Gwen can’t help but feel slightly relieved; trying on a hat is far better than wrestling a troll. Ailla, however, is still clutching her hand nervously. “What if it doesn’t pick me for anywhere?” she whispers anxiously. “What if it sends me home?”  
“You’ll be fine,” Gwen whispers back. “I promise, Ailla.”  
Professor Cordraco steps forwards with a list. “When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and put on the hat to be sorted,” she says. “Archer, Lisbet.”  
A girl with her hair twisted into dark braids piled atop her head steps forwards and takes a seat, the hat falling down over her eyes.  
“HUFFLEPUFF!”  
She stumbles to her feet as the table on the right explodes with cheers, several getting up to welcome their newest member.  
Professor Cordraco continues to read through the names. “Bontide, Emberlyn.”  
A girl with flaming red curls and a smattering of freckles over her nose bounces up towards the stool, eagerly tugging the hat onto her head.  
“GRYFFINDOR!”  
The table to the far left begins to cheer, and Gwen can see Cinder, Carric and his friend Morgan all slamming their goblets on the table.  
Two new Hufflepuffs and another Gryffindor later, Professor Cordraco calls out: “Cortusolis, Nevaeh.”  
Gwen and Ailla both squeeze the girls hands, and Conner gives her a friendly pat on the shoulder as she makes her way over to the stool. The hat drops down over her head, completely concealing her face as the small girl waits in trepidation. There is silence in the hall. Gwen finds herself holding her breath as the hat deliberates for one minute…two minutes…  
“SLYTHERIN!”  
The hat comes off, and Nevaeh’s look of resignation is plain to see. She gathers herself quickly and heads over to the table on the far right, where there are whoops and cheers. Gwen can make out the smirking faces of the girl’s cousins and clenches her fist slightly.  
“Devereux, Ailliena.”  
Gwen hears the nervous squeak from next to her. She gently peels Ailla’s hand out of hers and nudges her towards the stool. Ailla’s so pale Gwen’s worried she’s going to be sick. She sits down on the stool and puts the hat on.  
Silence.  
More silence.  
Whispers begin to fill the hall as they hit the three minute mark, and students are checking their watches, hissing excitedly.  
Gwen can see Carric gazing intensely at his little sister on the stool, and then notices Alizarine doing the same.  
Four minutes.  
Gwen can see Ailla’s hands clutching the edge of the stool nervously. She can see her mouth moving, but her voice is too soft to hear; although from the stubborn set of her chin she seems to be debating with the hat.  
Gwen can see a couple of students counting down on their watches, waiting for the five minute mark…  
“RAVENCLAW!” Ailla removes the hat and stumbles off of the stall. Gwen can see her legs are shaking. The table next to Gryffindor erupts, and Brayden rushes forwards to hug Ailla and lead her over to a seat. The look of relief on her face is evident. Over at the Gryffindor table, Carric is shooting a middle finger over to Alizarine, who looks decidedly grumpy.  
Professor Cordraco resumes, looking slightly amused as she keeps going down the list.  
“Fletcher, Conner.”  
“Good luck Conner!” Gwen whispers, and then the boy is stumbling up to the stool, half tripping in his mixture of eagerness and nerves. He pulls the hat on, and a several seconds later…  
“RAVENCLAW!”  
Conner beams, and heads over to Ailla and Brayden. Gwen can see him hugging her cousin, before beginning to whisper enthusiastically.  
“Hearthsong, Guinevere.”  
She feels her breath catch. She turns to look at Ailla, who gives her an encouraging nod and a little smile as she heads over to the stool. The hat drops over her eyes and she can see nothing but velvety blackness.  
“Oho,” a little voice says in her ear, and she jumps slightly. “Another Hearthsong, eh?”  
_Um…hello, sir,_ she thinks back to the hat, and it chuckles slightly.  
“Hmmm…courageous, like your brother and sister, but also…kind, and loyal. A thirst for adventure, and a longing to do good. Hufflepuff, maybe, but…hmmm. No. Better be…GRYFFINDOR!”  
Gwen feels a wide grin split across her face, and she takes off the hat, walking over to the roaring table to the left. Cinder and Tancred appear to be doing some sort of victory dance, and Carric is grinning like the cat who got the cream. “Nice one, Gwen,” he mutters as she joins them. “You just won me another five galleons off of Liza.”  
“What were the first five from?” she asks, and he chuckles.  
“She said Ailla would be Slytherin. I said Ravenclaw. Not going to lie, Ailla had us going there for a minute; she was nearly a hatstall.”  
“Hatstall?”  
“Longer than five minutes for the hat to choose. She was under by ten seconds.”  
“So, you bet I’d be a Gryffindor?” Gwen asks as ‘Orzel, Emiline’ is sorted into Slytherin.  
“Yup,” Carric says smugly. “Liza said Hufflepuff.”  
“Well, the hat did consider it.” Gwen shrugs.  
“Well, luckily for you, you’ve landed in the best house,” says another voice from across the table, and Gwen looks up to see a smiling boy with black curls giving her a grin. “I’m Galahad. Nice to meet you.”  
“Oh yeah, we should probably introduce you to people and stuff,” Carric says, as Professor Cordraco rattles through the end of the alphabet. “This is Morgan and Mordred, they’re our team beaters.” The girl from earlier who said they’d have to fight a troll gives her a wink, while a boy who looks like her brother smiles good naturedly. “Arjaahn, he’s a chaser with me and Tancred…”A tall boy across the table gives her a friendly nod. “You already know Cinder, of course; she’s quidditch captain this year, and then there’s Loken who’s down there, he’s pretty cool-”  
Carric’s monologue is interrupted by Tancred elbowing him sharply in the ribs, and nodding towards the front, where Professor Cordraco is removing the stool and the hat, and the tall woman Gwen saw before is rising from an ornately carved golden chair.  
“Welcome!” she smiles warmly at all of them. She has a kind, round face with golden brown skin and twinkling dark eyes. “I am Professor Gilderling, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now, I’m sure you’ve all had a long journey, so please…tuck in!”  
She waves her hands and the tables in front of them fill with food. Carric is laughing, and after a moment Gwen realises it’s because her mouth has fallen open with surprise.  
“Carrots, Gwen?” Tancred says, and she beams and reaches for the serving spoon.

* * *

“I love magic,” Conner is whispering as he piles his plate full of food. “I bloody love magic.”  
Ailla can’t help but giggle as she adds some potatoes to her own plate, before pouring pumpkin juice into her goblet.  
“Liza’s going to be _fuming_ ,” Brayden says, chuckling. “She owes Carric ten galleons now.”  
“Why were you stuck on the stool for so long, Ailla?” Conner asks- or at least, that’s what Ailla thinks he’s asking. It’s hard to tell when he’s talking with so much food in his mouth.  
“Oh…well. The hat couldn’t decide between two of the houses.” She gives a little shrug and pops some string beans on her plate.  
“What was the other house?” Brayden says, raising an eyebrow.  
Ailla feels her cheeks go a little pink. “Slytherin.”  
Brayden lets out a snort. “Oh, that’s going to rub salt in Liza’s wounds. She swore blind you’d be a Slytherin.”  
Ailla struggles for something to change the subject. “So that’s Headmistress Gilderling? She’s very young!”  
“Youngest headteacher Hogwarts has ever had,” Brayden says, nodding. “She was a prodigy apparently. Became headmistress at twenty-seven. She was Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher before that, but that was before I was here.”  
Ailla looks up at the woman sitting at the table with admiration, watching her chat to Professor Cordraco next to her. “Wow!”  
“She’s slated to be Minister of Magic one day. They wanted to offer her the job before, but there was a big stink about it in the Wizangamot because she’s so young. People were pissed off enough she became Headmistress.”  
“So who are all the teachers?” Conner asks, leaning forwards to look at the table with Ailla.  
“So Professor Cordraco’s the deputy head. She also teaches potions. She’s amazing, but also don’t get on her bad side. Oh, and she’s head of Slytherin.” Brayden moves his finger along the table, discretely pointing out the teachers.  
“That’s Professor Arwood, he’s Defence Against the Dark Arts, and he’s head of Gryffindor. Professor Lem, he’s head of our house. He teaches Ancient Runes; I don’t take it, but Liza does and she’s always bitching about his essays.” His finger rests on a frowning, bearded man in blue robes before moving on. “That’s Professor Dancewalker, he does astronomy.” The man he points to is tall and stern, gracefully nodding at the teacher next to him. “Professor Chernek, he’s Magical Creatures and Head of Hufflepuff,” he gestures to the man who lead them from the train. “Madame Ward is the school nurse; she’s a bloody good healer- she’s fixed Tancred up a fair few times…” He continues until he’s named every teacher except a young woman on the end. “…And she must be new because I have no idea who she is.”  
“I bet she’s Herbology,” a girl sitting opposite them says. “I can’t see Professor Linton. I think she retired.”  
“…Aaaaand that woman is the new herbology teacher,” Brayden finishes, giving the girl a nod. “Thanks Juliette.”  
“You’re welcome.” The curly-haired girl gives them a wink. “I’m Juliette Starfall. Welcome to Ravenclaw!”  
“Thanks!” Conner says enthusiastically, and Ailla gives her a shy smile.  
“I’m second year, so I was exactly where you guys are this time last year. Don’t worry! You’re going to have a great time,” she says warmly. “ _And_ we have the best common room, no matter what Gryffindor say!”

* * *

Nevaeh nearly starts crying again when dessert appears, although this time from joy. She helps herself to a delicate apple pastry shaped like a rose and munches it happily. It reminds her of her mother, up to her elbows in flour, laughing as she stewed apples on the stove.  
“These are _heavenly_ , aren’t they?” says the girl next to her, helping herself to one as well and letting out a happy moan as she bites into it. “Amazing.”  
Nevaeh lets out a little giggle. “They’re really lovely,” she says, and the girl gives her a grin.  
“You’re First Year too, right? I’m Emiline, Emiline Orzel.”  
“It’s lovely to meet you,” Nevaeh says, “I’m Nevaeh Cortusolis, but most people call me Veya.”  
“Well in that case, call me Emi,” the girls says, giving her a wink.  
Out of the corner of her eyes, Veya sees Aloysius heading down the table towards her and her heart sinks.  
“What’s up?” the girl says, following her gaze.  
“Oh. That’s my cousin. He’s not…not very nice.”  
The girl purses her lips as Aloysius grabs Veya’s shoulder and begins hissing in her ear, and smug grin on his face. “We told you you couldn’t get away from us, squirt. Now we’re in the same common room all year, we’ll all be able to have some fun…”  
“Excuse me.”  
Both Veya and Aloysius turn around to look at Emiline. Her dark eyes are narrowed, and a perfect eyebrow is raised. “I don’t know who you think you are, snake face, but you can get your hand off her and fuck right off.”  
Aloysius just gawps at her in shock for a moment, and Veya has to fight the urge to laugh. With his thin lips and his flat nose, he really does look like a stunned snake.  
“What’s going on here?”  
Aloysius jumps back as a beautiful girl with a head of flowing blue hair stares him down. “N-nothing,” he stammers, glowing at the two first years.  
“Aloysius is being a dick to the first years,” a girl across the table says. “And the first years told him to fuck off.”  
“Aloysius, go and sit down and leave the first years alone,” the tall girl says, rolling her eyes before sweeping off to sit next to a upper year boy with long curling dark hair who is lounging in his chair.  
Aloysius reluctantly slinks away, still glowering. The girl across the table from them laughs. “He’s an idiot, that one.”  
“Who’s that girl?” Emiline asks, leaning forwards.  
“That’s Ortenzia Stellare,” the girl replies. “She’s one of our prefects. The boys next to her is her brother Giuliano.”  
“Is her hair _blue_?” Nevaeh asks after a moment.  
“Yeah. She’s a metamorphmagus. Can change her appearance at will. She normally changes her hair colour up every week or so.” The girl smiles. “I’m Elodie, by the way. Third year.”  
“I’m Emiline and this is Veya,” Emi says.  
“Welcome to Slytherin, you two. Ignore Aloysius and his idiot brother. They’re arseholes.”  
Up at the teacher’s table, Headmistress Gilderling is rising to her feet again, her long black braids shining in the light of the thousands of candles.  
“Just a few words, now that you’re all fed.” Her dark eyes crinkle as she smiles out at all of them. “First years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. I have also been asked by the caretaker to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors, especially not any jinxes or hexes.” Here, her eyes seem to rest on a white-blonde girl at Neveah’s table, and another blonde girl over at the Gryffindor table sitting near Gwen.  
“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact their head of house.” Her smile brightens, and she raises her hands. “Now, you must all be tired. Prefects, please lead our new first year students to their dormitories. I bid all of you a good night!”  
Veya gets to her feet and so does Emiline, and they head over towards the girl with blue hair, now noticing the shining silver and green badge pinned on the front of her robes.  
“Come on first years,” she says, motioning them to follow after her. “This way.”  
They follow Ortenzia out through the towering doors and into the entrance hall. She leads them through another, smaller door and down a set of stone steps. Veya hesitates a little nervously at the entrance, but the staircase is well lit and she follows Emiline down, her hand clutching the stone banister.  
“Are these…dungeons?” Veya whispers, and Emiline gives a nod.  
“Must be. Hope it’s not cold in our dormitories!”  
Ortenzia comes to a halt outside a stretch of stone wall flanked by flickering torches.  
“Blackthorn,” she says, the wall suddenly vanishes, revelling a passage behind it. “Password changes every two weeks,” Ortenzia adds. “Don’t forget it, or you’ll end up sitting out here and this floor is _hard_.”  
She leads the way inside, and the tunnel opens up and reveals a large room with a stone ceiling and walls, hung with richly embroidered tapestries. Several iron chandeliers hang from the ceilings, full of flickering candles, and there’s a roaring fire blazing in a carved stone fireplace. Plush, deep green velvet winged chairs flank the fireplace, and leather sofas are scattered around the room with dark wooden coffee tables between them. There are also several desks in the same dark wood with oil lamps sitting on them, presumably for studying.  
But the part of the room which makes Veya gasp in delight is the great glass windows looking out into blackness. She can see great strands of kelp brushing up against them, which is how she knows that they are looking out into the depths of the lake.  
Ortenzia shoots her a little smile. “Dormitories are through the archway to the right. Girls are the lest staircase, boys are the right.”  
Veya trails after Emiline, her eyes still glued to the mysterious world outside the window. Her face lights up as they enter their dorm. There are fourposter beds hung with green silk. Each has a little bedside table, a chest of drawers, and Nevaeh can see her trunk set at the bottom of one of the beds. She rushes over to the window and pulls back the curtains, staring out into the depths outside.  
“Oh wow!” she says softly. “Emiline, isn’t it beautiful?”  
“Bit creepy if you ask me,” Emiline says, bouncing on her bed twice before landing crosslegged. She giggles. “What if the giant squid comes up and starts knocking in the night?”  
“Giant squid?” Nevaeh asks, and Emiline giggles again.  
“Yeah, it lives in the lake. I think its pretty chill though. Probably won’t try and get in.”  
“I’d take a giant squid over my cousins,” Nevaeh says gloomily, opening her trunk and pulling out her pyjamas.  
“Boys can’t come into the girls dorm,” Emiline says, pulling on her own nightwear and running a comb through her hair. “It’s enchanted.”  
Nevaeh perks up. “Really? They can’t get in?”  
“Nope!” Emiline pops the ‘p’. “You’re completely safe here from them.” She pulls the covers up to her chin, snuggling into her bed before rolling over to look at Veya. “You know, Slytherin house looks after their own, or so I’ve heard. They won’t get very far if they keep trying to treat you badly. I’ll find a way to ruin their lives, for one.”  
Veya laughs, clambering into her own bed next to Emiline’s. “You really think so?” she says, her voice full of tentative hope.  
“I know so,” Emiline says back, and she smiles, the corners of her dark eyes crinkling.  
The rest of their dormitory has climbed into bed, and the lights go out, the only illumination remaining is what little moonlight filters through the waters of the lake, creeping under the bottoms of the curtains.  
“Emi?” Nevaeh’s voice whispers through the darkness, and she hears the other girl raise her head.  
“Yes Veya?”  
“I’m glad…” she falters for a moment, unsure what to say, how express that for the first time in several years she feels happy and wanted, that for the first time in a long time she feels _safe_. “I’m glad…I’m glad that the dormitories are warm after all.”  
She almost feels the smile in Emiline’s words and thinks that she somehow understands what she means. "Yeah, Veya. Me too.”  



	5. New Friends and Newer Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Darya and Ruby who once more were dragged in to read over their characters sections for me! Also to Richard who got badgered about letters. Love you guys <3

* * *

Ailla wakes early and spends about half an hour curled in the window seat of her dorm room, reading _A History of Magic_ by the morning light streaming in through the windows. She likes her dorm room; it’s light and airy, set in the top of tower with windows all around the circular room. Her bed is next to the window overlooking the lake, so when she draws the curtains at night, she can see the moonlight reflecting off of the water. She has her own bookshelf and wardrobe, and her four-poster bed is hung with midnight blue silk. She’s never shared a room with other people before, and she’s not sure about the other girls being in her space, but there’s something exciting about it all the same.  
To her delight, she and Gwen are sharing several of their classes, so she gets to see her in Charms and Herbology. Charms has been her favourite class so far, although she did enjoy potions as well. Professor Cordraco is a very good teacher, and she gave Ailla five points for Ravenclaw because she already knew the ingredients for a potion to cure boils.  
Today, they have History of Magic with the Slytherins, and she’s looking forwards to sharing her first class with Veya. She’s also looking forwards to History; she hasn’t had a lesson yet, but the textbook is her favourite so far. She finds all the different events which have happened in the Wizarding World fascinating. She’s already finished _Hogwarts: A History twice_.  
She meets Conner in the common room and heads down to the Great Hall for breakfast, still reading. She nearly gets stuck in a trick stair, but Conner grabs her arm and guides her over it.  
“Excited for History of Magic?” he says, sounding amused.  
She gives a vacant nod as the enter the hall and she props the book against a milk jug, still flicking through the pages.  
“Aillllllaaaaa…” Conner’s face drifts in front of her. “Eat some food!”  
“I’m just finishing this chapter…” she says vacantly, and then jumps about a foot as a package lands on the table in front of her with a thud. She looks up and sees a handsome barn owl giving her a piercing look. She quickly hands the owl a strip of bacon, and it snatches it from her hands with a chirp, before flying off.  
“Ooooh, what’ve you got?” Conner asks, pouring himself some pumpkin juice.  
Ailla picks up the letter that came with the package and opens it, her eyes running over the slanted scrawl.

_Dear Ailliena,  
Thank you for your letter. It is good to hear that you are safe and have made friends in Ravenclaw. Stay out of trouble. Emrys is well. Mind your studies, and write if you need any materials.  
Uther_

“It’s from my father!” she says, and she can feel her entire face lighting up. She wrote to him on her first morning, but she wasn’t expecting a reply, especially not one this quickly. She certainly hasn’t received one from her mother.  
“What’s in the parcel? What’s he sent you?” Conner looks almost as excited as she feels. Her fingers fumble with the paper as she pulls it off to reveal a little blue velvet jewellery box. She opens it and a little note falls out.

_This was your grandmothers. It’s been in the family a long time. She said that if any of my daughters were Ravenclaws, to pass it on to them._

“Ooooooooooooooh!” Conner says, staring at the contents of the box in excitement.  
Ailla picks up the little ring, her eyes shining. It’s beautiful, and she can tell it’s old from the design. It’s a silvery-white metal, set with a little pearl, with two small sapphires on either side. It’s made for a grown up, and it’s too big for her, so she tries it on her index finger. To her surprise, it suddenly shrinks down, fitting her finger perfectly. She removes it, and it grows again. She slides it onto her middle finger instead, and it again shrinks down to the perfect size.  
“Cooooooool!” Conner says, staring at it. “That’s awesome! It’d be really hard to lose that!”  
She shakes her hand violently, and the ring stays on, but when she tugs at it, it comes off with ease. She puts it back onto her finger, folding up the letter carefully and putting it and the box into her bag.  
“I can’t believe he wrote to me,” she says in disbelief, and Conner gives her a weird look.  
“Why wouldn’t he write to you? He’s your dad!”  
“I know. I guess…I just don’t see him a lot. At home.”  
“Yeah, but it’s like…the first time you’ve ever been away from home. Of course he’s going to miss you, even if he’s busy a lot.”  
Ailla can’t stop smiling. “Do you think?”  
“Yeah!” he gives her a friendly nudge with his elbow. “Now, eat your breakfast!

* * *

Emiline is late for History of Magic; partially because she got lost, but also partially because she was having too much fun watching an older Gryffindor pranking several of the suits of armour.  
The teacher doesn’t seem to impressed, but accepts her mumbled apology that she “got lost” before waving her to a seat.  
She quickly slides into the first empty seat she sees, in the front row between two Ravenclaws; a girl with short blonde hair and a girl with long dark brown plaits. The second girl shoots a look at her, and Emiline thinks she almost looks…disapproving. Is it because she’s late? The thought is brushed from her mind as the teacher starts to speak.  
“This term, we will be focusing on some of our earlier wizarding history. Has anyone here heard of the wizard Merlin before?”  
Nearly every hand in the class goes up, including the girl next to Emiline who’s arm goes up like a rocket.  
“Miss Devereux? What can you tell me about Merlin?”  
“Merlin was born circa 982, and was one of the first students at Hogwarts,” the girl says in a rush, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “He served the first and only King of the Wizards, Arthur, and was said to be the most powerful wizard of all time! He was also known as the Prince of Enchanters, and he-”  
“Thank you, Miss Devereux,” the Professor says, looking faintly amused. “I applaud your knowledge on the subject. Five points to Ravenclaw.”  
The girl flushes happily and settles back down, and Emiline has to fight an urge to roll her eyes.  
“Now, as Miss Devereux has told us, Merlin was said to be the most powerful wizard of all time, even more powerful than King Arthur. Both of these great historical figures walked these very same halls of Hogwarts as all of you. Can anyone tell me which houses they were sorted into?”  
The girl next to Emiline’s hand goes shooting up in the air again, along with a couple of others.  
“Mr Fletcher?”  
“Well, King Arthur was really brave and noble, wasn’t he?” This is said by a Ravenclaw boy a couple of seats down. “So was he a Gryffindor?”  
“Well done, Mr Fletcher. He was indeed!” The professor smiles. “Do you know what house Merlin was in?”  
The boy hesitates. “Ummmm…Well, if he was wise, was he a Ravenclaw?”  
“It’s a common assumption,” the teacher says kindly. “But I’m afraid he wasn’t. Does anyone else- yes, Miss Devereux?”  
The girls hand is waving in the air again.  
“He was a Slytherin, Professor Avigliana,” the girl says, looking pleased with herself.  
“Correct, Miss Devereux. Well done to you and Mr Fletcher, another five points for Ravenclaw between you.”  
The two grin at each other, looking delighted.  
“Now, does anyone know how Merlin is said to have died?”  
A couple of hands go up, but the Devereux girl’s is raised so violently that she bumps Emiline’s desk, knocking her ink bottle over. She scowls, righting it; the girl offers no apology and Emiline isn’t sure if it’s because she didn’t notice or because she doesn’t care.  
Professor Avigliana choses someone else, and Devereux slumps in her seat, looking like a forlorn puppy. Emiline has to bite back a laugh at the stupid look on her face.  
“Um…” She turns to look behind her, recognising Veya’s voice, and she shoots her an encouraging smile. “Um…didn’t Morgana kill him?” Veya says, looking nervous.  
Professor Avigliana nods. “It is widely thought that Merlin may have perished in a battle with his one time lover, Morgan le Fay. However, as his body has never been found, we cannot be sure…yes, Miss Devereux?”  
The girl has her hand in the air _again_. “Isn’t there a myth that Morgan le Fay trapped him inside an enchanted oak tree?” she says breathlessly. “Or in some legends, inside a crystal cave?”  
“Those are also theories pulled from some historical texts, yes,” Professor Avigliana says, nodding. “However, as his grave has never been discovered, we cannot be sure. Now, if you’ll all turn to page 25 in _A_ _History of Magic_ …”  
“She’s been like this in _every_ class,” the blonde Ravenclaw on Emiline’s other side mutters.  
Emiline turns to her, opening her book as she does so. “What, the Devereux girl?” she whispers.  
The Ravenclaw rolls her eyes. “Every lesson so far. She just _has_ to be right. And whenever she is, she gets this stupid little smile on her face…she was the only one who perfected the lumos charm last lesson, and she then was asked to teach it to us to help…” She pulls a face. “I’ve wanted to push her out the dormitory window for the last two days just _thinking_ of her smug smile.”  
It’s true, the girl does look exceptionally smug as she copies down notes.  
“Don’t get me wrong, we’re raking in the house points, so I shouldn’t complain,” the Ravenclaw continues, still in a low voice. “But honestly, she looks like she’s going to wet herself every time a teacher chooses her to answer a question.  
Emiline can’t help but let out a snort of laughter, and quickly covers it with a cough.  
In the last ten minutes or so of the lesson, Emiline can finally feel herself beginning to crack. The girl is _incessant_. She’s basically bouncing in her seat every time Professor Avigliana asks a question, and she looks like a dying duck every time she’s not chosen.  
“Did you know that they believe Merlin’s wand was made of Oak?” she says excitedly to the blonde girl and the boy who’d been sitting with her as they all pack away their things. “And that he was one of the biggest promoters of Muggle rights? The Order of Merlin was originally-”  
“You know, no one asked.” Emiline finds the words escaping her mouth before she can stop them. “Like, literally none of us. You know, it’s not attractive to be so stuck up, right?”  
The girl jerks back slightly, as if she’s been slapped. Her mouth opens and closes for a second, and to her horror Emiline thinks she sees tears brimming in her eyes. Then a strange, cold, calm look washes over her face and she just walks out of the room without another word.  
The boy gives Emiline a scowl. “That was really mean!” he says, before pushing past her and running after the girl.  
Emiline turns to the Ravenclaw, who shrugs. “Well…she kinda had it coming. Better she learns now…”  
But her words can’t shake the horrible feeling of guilt that’s beginning to rise in Emiline’s stomach. She keeps seeing the girls face, over and over; the shocked little intake of breath, the watery eyes and then that empty blank coldness.  
Yes, the girl was annoying, and a bit stuck up, but Emiline herself _was_ kind of mean; she shouldn’t have lost her temper like that.

It is not until Friday that Emiline finally has a chance to apologise to the Devereux girl. She’s seen her in the corridors a couple of times, but has never had the chance to speak to her. In fact, whenever the girl sees her, she seems to walk in the opposite direction.  
However, third period on Friday is double Defence Against The Dark Arts with the Ravenclaws, and Emiline resolves herself to grab the girl afterwards and talk to her.  
She gets to class early, grabbing a seat next to Nevaeh and steeling herself for her mission. This time she’s in time for the register, and it turns out that the girl’s first name is Ailliena, a fact which she tucks away for later.  
Professor Arwood is probably the tallest teacher they have at well over six foot, and he would be imposing if it weren’t for his omnipresent jolly smile. He is dressed in green damask robes today, with a lace cravat at his throat and a stylish green pointed hat perched on his tousled blonde hair.  
“Welcome, welcome!” he beams round the room at all of them. “Lovely to meet you all, chaps! Righto, today we’ll be starting you off with a simple spell; the knockback jinx. Can anyone tell me what the difference is between a jinx and a hex?”  
Emiline sees Ailliena in the front row twitch slightly, as if suppressing the instinct to put her hand up, and she somehow feels even worse than she had previously. She can see the boy next to Ailliena nudging her furiously.  
“Anyone?” Professor Arwood asks, looking round the room in slight disappointment.  
“Ailliena knows, Sir!” the boy in the front row says, and Emiline sees the girl look as if she wants to sink through her chair.  
“Miss Devereux? Do you know the answer? Well, speak up then!”  
The girl gives a little nod, still very pink. “A jinx is a minor dark charm whose effects are annoying but not necessarily long lasting. A hex is a moderate dark spell which normally causes some sort of physical effect on the target, such as the bat-bogey hex.” Emiline can see that the girl pulls a face here, as if she’s been the victim of such a hex before. “Curses are the darkest magic, often with long lasting effects and they are the most difficult to reverse.”  
“Very good Miss Devereux. Ten points to Ravenclaw.” He turns, robes flaring dramatically. “Now, although these are the proper definitions, many wizards use these three terms interchangeably, for example referring to the stinging jinx as the stinging hex. Now, onto the spellwork!” He gives an enthusiastic clap, making several people jump. “Now, the knockback jinx is a very useful little spell! Now I myself used it in the All-England Duelling Championship, which I have won three times, to great effect. It was a hard fight, but…”  
Emiline can feel her attention wandering as Professor Arwood begins to give them all a blow by blow account of how he won his last duel, with more and more enthusiastic hand gestures as he goes on. Her eyes wander over to Ailliena, and she vaguely wonders how the girl is managing to look so attentive as their professor really starts to get into his stride.  
“Now then!” Her attention finally snaps back as Arwood rounds on the class. “As I said, the incantation is ‘Flipendo’! It’s a very particular wand movement, so I will demonstrate slowly for you.” He brings his wand down and then up in a ‘v’ shape, with a sharp flick at the end. “Now, all of you do it with me.”  
They all trace their wands in the air, mimicking him several times, until he splits them into pairs and sets them to practising, with large stacks of cushions behind them in case they’re successful.  
Emiline raises her wand, imitating the gesture. “Flipendo!”  
To her delight, Nevaeh stumbles slightly. “Oh! I felt something! Try it again Emi!”  
A happy warmth begins to spread through her as she raises her wand again and flicks it in the ‘v’ shape. “Flipendo!”  
With a squawk, Nevaeh goes flying back into the pile of cushions. Emiline dashes over to check on her, but the blonde girl’s head is already poking out, a big grin on her face. “That was amazing Emi!”  
“Very good Miss Orzel! Ten points for Slytherin!” Professor Arwood says, and Emiline can’t help grinning as she and Veya swap places.  
“Ready to learn how to knock your cousins on their butts?” she says with a wink.  
Meanwhile, on her left she can see Ailliena Devereux’s brow furrowing more and more as she tries over and over to perform the spell and fails. Emiline isn’t sure why; the girl’s wrist action is perfect, her pronunciation spot on, but whilst her companion eventually manages to knock her backwards into a pile of cushions, Ailla can hardly even make him trip. She looks a little bit like she’s about to cry, and Emiline has to remind herself that she’s supposed to be making up with the girl, not laughing at her. Honestly, it’s only one spell.  
By the time the bell rings, Emiline has sent Nevaeh flying nearly ten times, and the other girl seems thankful that the pile of cushions was deep. After making sure her friend is okay, Emiline snatches up her bag with a quick “I’ll meet you at lunch!” to Nevaeh, before charging out of the room after the Devereux girl. “Hey, Devereux! Ailliena!”  
The girl turns and spots her; her face darkens and she begins to storm away. Ah hell no.  
Emiline puts on a burst of speed, running after the girl and grabbing her arm.  
“Hey, Ailliena, I-”  
“Leave me alone.”  
Emiline scowls, but tightens her grip on the girl’s arm. “No, I wanted to talk to you.”  
“Well, I don’t want to talk to you,” the girl says in a little cold voice, her face pinched, before yanking her arm out of Emiline’s grip and trying to stride off again.  
“Hey!” Emiline can feel her temper stirring, like dragon fire rising up from her stomach and singeing her throat. She bites back the words she wants to say, trying to remain calm. “Well, tough, because I want to talk to you.” She grabs the strap of the girl’s bag, yanking her back. “I’m trying-”  
“Get off me!” the girl snaps, trying to take Emiline’s hands off of her bag. “Leave me alone! I don’t want to hear whatever snarky comment you have to say today!” She wriggles, trying to pull away again, but Emiline holds fast.  
“Look, Devereux! All I wanted to do was-”  
There’s a sickening ripping sound as Ailliena’s bag splits in half. The contents fall to the ground, bottles of ink smashing on top of her schoolbooks and her carefully detailed notes.  
Both of the girls stare at it for a moment, before Ailla dives down, struggling to pick everything up and bundle it up in her ruined bag. Emiline drops down to help her.  
“Agh, all I was trying to say is-”  
“Go away!” The girl’s face is white as she scrabbles up the last of her possessions. “Just leave me alone, you horrible girl!”  
The dragon fire bursts free. “I was just trying to apologise!” Emiline yells in the girl's face, and she shrinks back. “But no, you’re just too good to stop and listen to me, aren’t you? Well, I don’t know why I bothered, and I don’t know why you’re being like this over a stupid little comment I made! Anyway, I was only saying what everyone was thinking! Why do you have to be so dramatic?!”  
The girl is now, if possible, even paler. She stands up, clutching her bundle of ruined books, ink staining her robes, and she spins on her heel, walking away without another word.  
Emiline stares after her, before realising a small crowd has gathered around them by this point, and they’re now all staring at her. She straightens up, and tosses her glossy curls over her shoulder as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. “Honestly,” she huffs, storming away in the opposite direction, deciding that that is the last time she ever tries to apologise to Ailliena Devereux.  
  


* * *

The last thing Galahad expects to find in an empty Transfiguration classroom is a small first year girl crying, but that is the sight he is presented with when he goes back to locate his missing textbook. She isn’t sobbing; she is instead sitting straight backed at one of the desks, expressionless while tears roll silently down her cheeks. She has a small packet of tissues in her hand, but instead of using them to wipe her tears, she is instead dabbing at a textbook.  
“Hello,” he says, and the girl jumps, spinning around and looking up at him nervously. “Are you okay?”  
She sniffs, and gives a little nod, wiping her cheeks hurriedly with her robe. As he moves forwards, he can see that her books are covered in splotches of ink, and that a ripped bag is lying by her feet.  
“Here, I can get that off for you… _tergeo_.” He taps her book with his wand and siphons off the ink. “Did it get on anymore of your books?”  
She gives another little nod, now dry eyed but looking decidedly nervous. “T-thank you,” she stammers, blinking up at him with big blue-green eyes.  
“No problem,” he says, pulling a chair up next to her. “Let’s have a look at your books then, hey?”  
She hesitantly reaches under the desk and pulls out her bag and the rest of her books. He skims his wand over _The Standard Book of Spells: Grade One._ He can feel her eyes on him, and he glances over at her. Her gaze is fixed on his wand hand, as though committing the motion to memory. He hands her an ink spattered copy of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_. “Want to give it a go?”  
She gives him a little smile, and nods again, taking the book and pulling out her wand. He just about manages not to laugh; it must be over a foot long and nearly a quarter of her height.  
A look of concentration comes over her face, and she points her wand in the same way he did. “Tergeo!”  
The ink begins to come away and a look of delight comes over her face. “I _can_ do it! I thought I…” Her face falls slightly as she keeps removing the ink.  
“What did you think?” Galahad asks gently, as he finishes her book and moves onto what looks like a school workbook.  
She goes a bit pink. “I…I couldn’t do my spell in Defence Against The Dark Arts today.”  
“Well, it is only your first week here,” he says reasonably, still siphoning ink off of her notes. There are an awful lot of them for only her first week, all neatly laid out and colour coded.  
“Yeah, but…I’ve done all my other spells in my other classes,” she mumbles. “They were all fine. I just…just couldn’t do the knockback jinx.”  
“Show me your wand movement.”  
She blinks, but sets her book aside, and shows him. He nods slowly. “Okay. That was good. How are you saying it?”  
“Flipendo?”  
“Pronunciation is fine…but…” He gestures suddenly. “Stand up. Give it a go on me.”  
“But…what if it works? What if I hurt you?”  
He grins. “I can take a knock. Go on.”  
“Flipendo!”  
He takes a slight step back. “Okay. Your wand movement and pronunciation is perfect. But with jinxes and hexes, and especially curses…you need to really _mean_ it.”  
“Mean it?” She furrows her eyebrows.  
“Magic like that comes from your emotions. You need to channel your feelings and use them to help you.”  
She frowned again. “But…isn’t it better to be in control of your emotions?”  
“Well, you need to control them, yes. But you still need to feel them. Just don’t let them overwhelm you. Try again.”  
She presses her lips together and raises her wand, taking a deep breath. “Flipendo!”  
This time, he moves a little further back. “Good. See? You’re already improving. Now, let’s finish these books of yours, hm?”  
She smiles at him again, and moves back over to finish cleaning the book.  
His eyes wander over her notes as he siphons off the last few bits of ink, and a couple of words jumped out of him. “The Vault of Merlin? Are you studying that in History of Magic?”  
She goes pink again. “I…uh…sort of…we’re doing Merlin…I was just doing some extra reading.”  
His eyes roam over her carefully scribbled notes and diagrams. “Extra reading, huh?” He runs his fingers over what looks like an old map of the castle that she’s stuck in and has annotated. “Funny, because from this it looks like you’re trying to find it.”  
At this she nearly knocks another bottle of ink over her possessions, and he quickly steadies it.  
“My dad used to tell me stories about the Vault of Merlin,” he says, picking up her bag and tapping it. “Reparo! My family is descended from King Arthur, you know. I grew up with all those legends as a kid. I was always desperate to find the vault, wondering if maybe Excalibur was inside.” He gives a little chuckle.  
“Did you?” she asks eagerly, beginning to pile up her now clean books. “Find it, I mean?”  
He laughs. “Not yet. Still looking.” He pauses. “What do you think you’ll find inside?”  
She blinks. “I…I don’t know. I guess I just want to know _what’s_ inside it more than anything. I just…like knowing things.”  
“Spoken like a true Ravenclaw,” he says with a chuckle. “Scourgio!” The ink stains vanish from her bag. “How’d all your stuff get like this anyway?”  
“Oh…” She flushes scarlet. “I…my bag ripped in the hall. Must have caught on something.”  
He doesn’t quite believe her, but decides not to press the point. “Well, that should be everything all fixed up.”  
“Thank you,” she says, before seeming to hesitate, as though she’s about to say something else. He waits, raising an eyebrow. “Um. I was wondering…um…”  
“Yes?” he says, not unkindly.  
“Well, you seem like you really know about Defence Against the Dark Arts. I was wondering…I mean…only if you have any free time…if…um…you’d mind ever…um…tutoring me?”  
Galahad smiles. “I’ll make you a deal.” She nods, listening intently. “I’ll tutor you in Defence if you promise to keep me clued in on your search for that Vault, okay? And if you ever find it, take me along with you.”  
She smiles again, and her face lights up. “Deal.” She reaches out and shakes his hand, before finishing packing the rest of her books.  
“Let’s go down to the Hall and see if we can grab some lunch then, okay?” Galahad says, and they head towards the door, passing through the deserted corridors. He pauses as they reach the great double doors to the hall. “What’s your name, by the way?”  
“Ailliena,” she says with a warm smile. “What’s yours?”  
“Galahad,” he says, and the two of them part ways, her heading off towards Ravenclaw table, and him towards Gryffindor.


	6. Heraldry and Hearsay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Ellie, Chris and Ruby for reading things and being poked about stuff!

* * *

O.W.L year is busier than Celuria ever imagined it would be, and before she knows it, it’s November and there’s an icy nip to the air.  
She wakes on the 9th with the familiar thrill of excitement that accompanies each quidditch match. This is the first of the season, and it’s bound to be entertaining; Gryffindor verses Slytherin always is, especially once the two seekers get going. Devereux and Hearthsong always make good watching, mostly because they keep trying to knock each other off their brooms. And also because their love-hate relationship is one of the worst kept Hogwarts secrets.  
She yawns and stretches, sitting up and beginning to run a comb through her long, flaming curls. She, after all, is going to be in prime position today, so she needs to look even more stunning than usual. She’s glad of the Hufflepuff dormitory today. It is, from what she’s heard, the cosiest of the four; underground like a badger’s burrow, and there’s a fire flickering in the iron stove in the corner. Her four-poster bed, hung with honey coloured velvet, is covered in a warm patchwork quilt, which she wraps around her shoulders as she pulls out a mirror and begins to carefully do her makeup. When she’s done, she pulls on the cutest warm clothes she can find and heads up into the common room. Adara is already there, settled in one of the cushy yellow armchairs by the fireplace, bathed in the morning sunshine trickling through the basement level windows, absently playing with the tendril of one of the plants hanging from the ceiling in a copper-bottomed pot. Celuria waves back absently at an overeager cactus on one of the shelves and comes to a halt opposite the portrait of Helga Hufflepuff that sits over the fireplace.  
“Shall we?” she says, and Adara looks up and returns her smile.  
“Excited for the match?” she says as she gently frees herself from the friendly plants grip and joins Celuria in heading down the tunnel towards their common room entrance.  
“Oh yes Adara! A Slytherin and Gryffindor rematch? Last time they played, Devereux and Hearthsong nearly ended up Muggle Duelling. It was thrilling!” She gives a tinkling little laugh.  
The two of them emerge from the massive barrel and head past the kitchens and up towards the Great Hall.  
“Morning!” Celuria trills as she passes the Gryffindor table, where the team is all huddled together looking serious. “How’re we all feeling for the match?”  
“We’re going to destroy Slytherin!” says a cheerful looking girl with short brown hair and a gaptoothed smile. “Don’t you worry, Silvertongue.”  
“Well, I’m glad to hear you feel like you’ll do better than last year, Carter!” Celuria says, suppressing a giggle at the number of indignant looking Gryffindors who glare at her. Ahhh, they’re so easy to rile. “Best of luck!”  
She swans off, arm in arm with Adara towards the Hufflepuff table.

They’ve come down early for breakfast; by the time they finish it’s ten, and there’s still an hour before the match. The two of them head out into the courtyard, although Celuria is keeping a careful eye on her watch; it wouldn’t do for her to be late, after all!  
“What do you think of Starfall?” Adara asks, perching on one of the stone benches around the fountain and pulling on her gloved to guard against the autumn chill.  
“Well, I’ve not seen him play yet,” Celuria replies thoughtfully. “But he is a bit young for a keeper. Although I suppose he’s tall for his age.”  
“He’s the youngest on their team. Reckon he has the nerve for it?”  
Celuria laughs. “Well, if there’s one thing Gryffindor _doesn’t_ lack, it’s nerve! But I will say, Gryffinsong on the Slytherin team is a much more experienced keeper than Starfall…well, we’ll see how it goes.”  
“Hey, Celuria?” Adara nudges her suddenly.  
“Yes?”  
Her friend nods her head slightly at the other side of the courtyard, where her green eyes are fixed on two girls and a boy talking. “If you want to find out more about Starfall, you could always ask his little sister.”  
Celuria’s eyes come to rest on the curly haired Ravenclaw girl that Adara is gesturing too. “What’s her name again? Jeanette?”  
“Juliette.”  
“Who’s the boy?”  
“First year, I think. I don’t recognise him. And that’s Emma Turner, I think she’s in Gryffindor, second year. Tried out for chaser this year, but didn’t get it, although I’m pretty sure she’s a reserve.”  
In unison, the two older girls rise and link arms, walking casually round towards the other bench. As they get closer, they can hear what the small group is talking about.  
“So, there are seven players on a team. There are three chasers, who use the big red ball, the quaffle, to score.”  
“Big red ball…chasers. Right…” The boy nods, his face screwed up in concentration.  
“And there’s two black balls, which fly around trying to knock people off. The beaters try and control them,” Emma, a girl with light blue eyes and reddish brown hair loose to her shoulders adds.  
“Explaining quidditch, Juliette?” Celuria says lightly as the two girls come to a stop in front of the bench.  
The girl looks up and gives them a smile. “Hello Celuria, Adara…yes, this is Conner. He’s muggleborn, so Emma and I were just giving him the rundown of the basics.”  
Celuria sits down next to them uninvited. “Oh how lovely! So this is your first quidditch match, Conner?”  
“Yup!” the boys says, giving an excited grin.  
“Juliette, you must be excited too! Your brother just got on the team, didn’t he?”  
Juliette smiles and nods. “Yeah, he’s really excited! He a really strong keeper too, although I think he’d prefer to play Seeker. Overall though, I think he’s just happy to be on the team. They’ve been practising really hard.”  
“Yeah, nasty defeat by Slytherin last year, wasn’t it?” Celuria says, as sympathetically as she can.  
“My friend’s brother is on the team too,” Conner says, looking eager. “And her cousin! She’s gone down to the changing rooms to say good luck to them.”  
“How sweet!” Celuria replies. “Who’s your friend?”  
“Ailliena Devereux, she’s in Ravenclaw with me.”  
Celuria stores this nugget of information away in her head for later. “Ah, so she didn’t go to Beauxbatons like her sister? We half thought her mother would have taken her when she ran off! Poor thing!”  
Conner’s face falls slightly. “What…what do you mean?”  
“Didn’t you know?” Celuria’s eyes widen innocently. The Gryffindor girl, Emma, seems to be listening with rapt attention. “Well, if you’re muggleborn, I suppose you won’t know about the Devereux’s.”  
“Know what about them?” Conner asks.  
Juliette rolls her eyes. “Here we go…”  
“Why Juliette, I don’t know why you’re objecting! You’re part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight as well; you’re the same calibre!”  
“What’s the Sacred Twenty-Eight?” Conner asks, looking more and more curious.  
Celuria opens her mouth to answer, but Emma gets there first. “Oh, it’s this list of pure-blood families that was published like, a hundred years ago,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Wizarding families which are centuries old, with strong magical lineage which can be traced back hundreds, if not thousands of years. Not that it really matters; everyone knows that lineage doesn’t mean you’re a better witch or wizard.”  
“Well said,” Juliette says warmly, and Conner smiles happily.  
“What I’m _trying_ to say,” Cerulia cuts in, “Is that the Devereux’s are basically wizarding royalty. They’re said to be descended from Merlin himself!”  
“Yes, and we’re said to be descended from King Arthur,” Juliette sighs. “It’s all just stories, Celuria.”  
Celuria shrugs. “Whether people believe it or not is up to them. Anyway, back to the current Devereux’s and moving away from the history lesson, Uther Deverux has had three wives.”  
“Three?!” Conner says, his mouth falling open.  
”Three,” Adara says, nodding from where she sits on their other side. “Let’s see, there was Alana Arwood. They had four kids, none of them at Hogwarts now…she died mysteriously.”  
“Then there was Morvah Sayre; she had three children. That’s Alizarine, Slytherin Seeker; Carric, Gryffindor chaser and Brayden who’s in Ravenclaw. Then SHE died as well, and he later married Rosaline Bonaccord, who was this French witch from a really good family. They had three children as well; Elodie, she’s a Slytherin, Aurelia who went to Beauxbatons, the French magic school, and your friend Ailliena.” Celuria finishes, looking proud of herself.  
Conner’s mouth is hanging open. “How do you _know_ all of that?!”  
Celuria preens, looking a little smug. “Pureblood politics are a delicate thing. There’s a lot of very old families constantly trying to matchmake and outmanoeuvre each other. And, my Ravenclaw friend, don’t they say knowledge is power? I make it my business to know.”  
“So…what happened to the third wife?” Emma pipes up.  
Adara and Celuria share a glance. “She ran off,” Adara says. “Last summer. She left the family and went back to France. It’s not been officially announced, but everyone knows, really.”  
“She just…left her daughters?” Conner says, sounding outraged.  
Adara nods. “It’s all been a bit of a scandal really. And they say the father, Uther, was never the same after his first wife died. And then the second made him worse. Now he never leaves the house. Sad, really.”  
“Who else is on the team?” Celuria muses, putting a finger to her chin in thought. “Hm, well there’s Griffinsong, he’s a chaser; another old family. And then there’s Tancred Devereux; he’s a cousin. His side is confusing though, because their Dad’s a Hearthsong, and some of them take the Hearthsong name, and some of them take the Devereux name. And then there’s the Carter twins; they’re muggleborn, and they’re both beaters. And then there’s Cinder Hearthsong; she’s the team Captain and the seeker, another Sacred Twenty-Eight.”  
She glances down at her watch. “Well, would you look at the time! I should get going; the match starts in half an hour!”  
“But you’re Hufflepuff,” Conner says, taking in her woolly yellow jumper. “You’re not playing, are you?”  
“Oh no!” Celuria replies, giving another tinkling laugh. “I’m the commentator! Bye!”  
And with that, she swans away, red curls glistening in the frosty autumn sun.

* * *

Cinder is walking back and forth in front of them, giving _another_ analysis of the weather conditions, but Carric has already heard her do it twice over breakfast and he’s tuning out slightly. Gryffindor verses Slytherin. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest like a drum. This is it. This is where he knocks that smug smile off of his sister’s face. This is the start of Gryffindor victory, and a summer of him rubbing it in half of his siblings (but especially Liza and Sevi’s) faces.  
Cinder has finally finished her talk, and they all scatter about, checking their brooms and making last minute preparations. Carric is just running some wax over his broom handle when there’s a little knock at the door. He glances up, and sees Ailliena standing there clutching a Gryffindor flag, a big grin on her face.  
“Hi Carric!” she says, running over and giving him a big hug.  
“Hey Ailla…you know you’re not really supposed to be here. Cinder might think you’re a Ravenclaw spy.”  
She giggles. “I just wanted to say good luck to you and Tancred! Gwen and Conner and Emberlynn and I are all going to be watching, and we made a banner and we’re going to be waving it! Galahad helped me with the colour changing spell, so it’s going to flash and everything, and Gwen drew the lion!”  
Tancred comes over, and Ailla flings herself at him, hugging him too. “You’re both going to be amazing! I know you are!”  
Carric grins. “Oh, we know we are. But thanks for the support.” He winks at her, but she’s distracted, pulling away from Tancred and heading towards someone else.  
“Gal! It’s your first match, isn’t it?!” Carric turns to see her grabbing their new keeper’s hands. “You’re going to be fantastic! I’ll be cheering for you!”  
She hugs him as well, going up on tiptoe. For one moment, Carric thinks she’s whispering something into their new keepers ear, but then Ailliena releases him, and gives them all a cheerful wave, before dashing out of the changing rooms, no doubt to go and find Gwen, Conner and the flashing banner.  
“Got a girlfriend, Starfall?” Cinder is raising an eyebrow at their youngest team member, who goes scarlet.  
“Ew, that’s my baby sister!” Carric says, at the same time Galahad exclaims: “What? Ew, no Cinder she’s a first year; she’s like eleven!   
Carric gives Galahad a slight _look_ out of the corner of his eyes, prompting the boy to add defensively, “I give her tutoring for Defence Against the Dark Arts.”  
Carric raises an eyebrow; it’s the first he’s heard of this, but he does much prefer this to Cinder’s suggestion. “Wait, Ailla actually needs tutoring in something?” he says, and Galahad shrugs.  
“She’s got the theory down perfectly, she just struggles with practical a bit.”  
Interesting.  
“I never imagined Ailla struggling with anything she must have read all the textbooks twice over,” Tancred says, adjusting his robes slightly.  
“Like I said, theory’s perfect.” Galahad shrugs. “And I know she’s top of the class in nearly everything else.”  
“If we’re quite done discussing first years,” Cinder says, picking up her broom. “It’s time for the match.” Her mouth twitches slightly. “And we’re not allowed to lose, because no offence Carric, but I can’t take one more smug grin from your sister.”  
“You’re not alone in that,” Carric mutters darkly, and Cinder laughs.  
“Let’s go team!”  
They head out onto the field amidst a roar from the stadiums. Carric looks, up and can see Ailliena’s banner flapping in the wind, supported by a group of first years who are so small he’s slightly worried it will act like a sail and blow them all away.  
GO GRYFFINDOR is emblazoned across what looks like an old sheet, flashing red and gold, alongside a very good picture of a lion which is roaring and twitching it’s tail.  
“Gwen always was good at drawing,” Tancred says in a tone of satisfaction. “It looks great, doesn’t it?”  
Cinder steps forwards and grips Alizarine’s hand. The two of them stare each other down, squeezing so tightly it looks like each of them is trying to break the other’s fingers.  
The whistle blows, and they all shoot up into the air. Carric sees Arjhaan snatch the quaffle, and the three of them are off, falling into the tight formation that they’ve been practising for the last two months.  
“And Griffinsong is in possession of the quaffle, he passes to Devereux, who passes to Devereux, back to Devereux, nicely avoiding a bludger there, back to Griffinsong, he’s coming up to the hoops…will the other Griffinsong stop it? He doesn’t! GRYFFINDOR SCORES!”  
There’s a roar from the crowd as Celuria’s magnified voice echoes over the stands, and as Carric shoots past he catches a sight of Ailla with red and gold facepaint, waving her banner. A warm glow fills his chest, and he can’t help but feel glad that his little sister is finally able to watch one of his matches. He used to write to her at home and tell her what happened, often going into blow by blow accounts, but this is a thousand times better.  
“Quaffle is in Slytherin possession, and I’m wishing we didn’t have so many people related at Hogwarts!”  
Celuria’s remark stirs a chuckle from the crowd. “Nice bludger there from Carter- Mordred Carter- and Gryffindor takes possession; Tancred Devereux has the quaffle…”  
Carric tunes Celuria out, focusing only on his team and the red ball they need to throw past Bryce Griffinsong.  
As if they can read each other’s minds, he, Tancred and Arjhaan move into the Hawkshead formation, shooting towards the three hoops like an arrow. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Morgan swinging her bat like a madwoman, cackling as she smacks a bludger away from them.  
The quaffle goes to Arjhaan, then it’s spiralling through the air towards him, and he catches it, tucking it under his arm and he’s speeding towards the goal, the quaffle spins from his hands; and Bryce misses it by a millimetre, his fingers brushing the surface of the ball.  
“Gryffindor scores!” Celuria’s voice echoes around the stadium. “20-0 to Gryffindor!”  
Everything seems to pick up pace from there. Slytherin gets the quaffle, and they’re racing to stop them, going into the Parkin’s Pincer formation that Cinder drilled them in two weeks ago.  
Slytherin get a penalty; Morgan has smacked one of their chasers in the face with her bat by ‘accident’. Her face is far too innocent as the referee sternly tells her off.   
“Foul from Morgan Carter, Gryffindor beater! This is of course not Morgan’s first foul; she earned Slytherin penalties in last years final with two counts of blatching and one of cobbing.”  
Carric grits his teeth at the reminder, and he can see Morgan giving Celuria the finger as she flies past.  
“I’ll hit a bloody bludger at her in a minute,” she hisses at Carric, and he shakes his head.  
“Morgan, please don’t give Slytherin any more penalties…”  
“Montrose takes the penalty! Slytherin score!”  
Carric groans and shoots off again to try and take possession of the quaffle.  
The score is 70-60 when he suddenly sees Alizarine go into a dive.  
“Oh…fuck,” he mutters, looking up, and to his relief he sees Cinder shooting after her, her long blonde ponytail streaming behind her. She’s gaining on his sister, and they two of them are neck and neck, Alizarine’s arm reaching out-  
And then Cinder is shooting upwards in a graceful arc, her arm outstretched, a small golden ball struggling in her hand, and everyone is yelling- Carric is punching the air- and they’re all shooting towards Cinder, enfolding her in a massive group hug midair, and he can see Alizarine looking like she wants to kill something.  
“We did it!” Morgan is screaming. “We fucking did it!”  
And Carric can’t stop grinning because Gryffindor has won the first quidditch match of the year.

* * *

Ailla enjoys the quiet of the grounds. The nice Gryffindor girl that Conner’s made friends with, Emma, invited both of them to the Gryffindor victory party she was holding, but for the moment she’s content to wander alone; she’ll join them later, especially as she has so much to tell Gal. Emma said they were holding in Professor Arwood’s classroom, as they’d wanted to invite other houses, so she knows where to find them. But for the moment, she just wants to breath in the cold autumn air before heading back into a crowd.  
“I fucking hate you, you know that?”  
Ailla freezes at the venom in the girl’s voice, and instinctively ducks behind a tree. She’s near the edge of the forest, on the banks of the lake, and she wasn’t expecting company. She stands, her back pressed against the rough bark, frozen in place, and her mind is suddenly transported back to home; when her mother would scream at her father and he’d say awful things back in a cold, bitter voice, and she’d run away and hide under her blankets, but never escape their fighting…  
“No you don’t.” The other girl’s voice is lazy. “If you hated me, you’d be back brooding in your common room.”  
“Fuck you,” the other voice hisses, and Ailla suddenly recognises it. She inhales sharply, peeping around the edge of the tree.  
Two girls are a few trees down from her. She can see her big sister’s hair shining in the afternoon sunlight, so blonde it’s nearly white, falling down her back in foaming curls. The other girl is taller than her by over half a foot, and Ailla recognises the Gryffindor seeker from the match earlier. The two of them look like they are fighting up against a tree, and Ailla’s eyes widen; is her sister in trouble? Then the two of them shift, and she sees that they aren’t fighting at all; they’re kissing, her sister’s hands tangled in the other girl’s golden hair, the Gryffindor girl pushing her sister back against a tree.  
Despite herself, Ailla lets out a little squeak of surprise, and the girls break apart, spinning around to look for the source of the noise.  
“Ailliena!”  
Ailla freezes as her sister storms towards her, her icy blue eyes furious. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Alizarine snarls, and Ailla suddenly comes to her senses, going to run, but there’s a flash of light, and she’s on the ground, her legs stuck together.  
“Liza…I didn’t mean…” she can hear the fear in her own voice and she hates it. “I wasn’t…I was just walking…”  
Liza waves her wand as she reaches her, and Ailla’s legs are freed, but before she can try to run again her sister has seized her arm.  
“First of all, are you spying on me?” Alizarine snaps, and Ailla shrinks back.  
“No! I promise! I just wanted a break from all the people so I went for a walk, I promise! Then I saw you both and I panicked!”  
Alizarine looks at her appraisingly, her eyes narrowed.  
“Liza, come on. She’s only a kid,” the other girl says, walking over to them.  
“Secondly,” Liza says, ignoring the other girl, “What do you think you’re doing this close to the forest alone?”  
“I was just walking by the lake! I didn’t mean-”  
“Ailla, all sorts live in there!” Liza says fiercely. “You could have got hurt!”  
“It’s mid-afternoon! I didn’t think-”  
“What, you think Dark creatures take siestas?”  
“No, I just-”  
Liza tugs her arm. “Come on. I’m taking you back to the castle.” She turns and looks at the Gryffindor girl with narrowed eyes. “See you around Hearthsong.”  
The other girl rolls her eyes and gives her a sarcastic little wave as Liza begins to escort Ailla back to the castle, her fingers digging into her arm.  
“If you tell anyone what you saw,” she snarls in an undertone as they walk. “You’ll fucking regret it.”  
“I won’t!” Ailla says, her mind flicking over every horrible curse Liza has ever performed over the holidays. “I promise!”  
Liza snorts, and looks her over. “Why are you wearing Gryffindor colours?” she says suddenly, still dragging Ailla towards the castle.  
Aills feels her stomach drop slightly, but answers; “Because I was supporting Gryffindor in the match.”  
Liza snort derisively. “You know what? Of course you were. Of course you were supporting your idol, precious Carric. Of course. I’m just your sister, what am I to you? Why would you ever support me.”  
Ailla is so shocked all she can do is stare at Alizarine for a moment. The two of them come to a halt outside the castle doors, and stare at each other, Ailla looking up into those cold, icy eyes. Anger is beginning to burn inside her; but not raw, hot rage. Her anger is cold, like ice flooding her veins, like eleven years of injustices rising to the surface like an unearthed ice-burg.  
“You know what, Alizarine?” she hardly recognises her own voice. It drips with icy distain, and for a moment, she thinks she hears the echo of her father in it. “Carric has spent the last eleven years looking after me. He wrote to me every week for the last four years when he went to Hogwarts. He was there when I cried, when I cut my knee, when my mum told me I was fucking worthless.”  
Alizarine opens her mouth as if she’s going to speak, but Ailla cuts her off. “ _I’m not finished._ ” Her hands are shaking, but the rest of her is numb. “You never wrote to me. You never cared. I have always been more of an annoyance to you than a person. So, if you want me to support you, if you want me to stand and cheer for you? You need to _earn_ it.”  
And with that she turns and walks through the double doors into the castle, leaving Alizarine standing outside alone.

* * *

All in all, Galahad is over the moon with his first quidditch match. They are now in a solid position, with a lead of 160 points, and a good shot at taking the lead in the Quidditch Cup, regardless of the outcome of the Hufflepuff vs Ravenclaw match in two weeks’ time. He grabs a butterbeer from the table, grinning as he watches the rest of Gryffindor house, as well as several Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, dancing along to the music coming from Professor Arwood’s radio. Arwood is the best head of house ever, as all Gryffindors agree; not only does he turn a blind eye to butterbeer and the occasional bottle of firewhiskey, but he lets them use his classroom for celebratory parties. Galahad has never had the opportunity to take advantage of the firewhiskey (the 6th years and above guard it preciously and seem to have appointed themselves official guardians of the younger years against high alcohol content), but he’s happy enough sipping his glass of butterbeer and discussing the match with several other Gryffindors who are complimenting the way he blocked two of the Slytherin penalties.  
It’s not until he’s left alone that he notices Ailliena. She’s lurking by the door, looking a little overwhelmed by the noise, and he heads over to see if he can put her at ease.  
“Hey. Enjoy the match?”  
She looks up at him and gives a smile. “Oh yes! You were wonderful. I mean, it was wonderful. I mean, you were very good too. It was good. Yes.”  
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”  
“I’ve always wanted to see Carric play quidditch,” she says happily. “He always used to write to me and tell me about his matches!”  
“Well I’m glad it lived up to your expectations.” He glances over his shoulder, before motioning her over to a quiet corner of the classroom and lowering his voice. “You said earlier that you’d found something new?”  
She gives an eager nod, rummaging in her bag and pulling out her notebook. “Yes! I was reading theories on Merlin’s disappearance and possible death. All of my sources agree that he vanished in the forest of Brocéliande. However, no one can really decide where it is. In Muggle legends seem convinced that it’s based in Brittany in France, which is where they believe a lot of Arthurian legends took place. However, _we_ know that Merlin really existed, and that he was based in England because he and Arthur attended Hogwarts. And England didn’t have a real foothold in Brittany around that Arthur ruled.”  
She fumbles through her notebook and opens it on a page with a map of Britain. Galahad nods, leaning over it intently.  
“So, you think that the forest is in Britain, not France?”  
She nods. “Yes! There are different suggestions as to where it could be. Cornwall, Wales…” she pauses and looks up at him, a little triumphant smile on her face. “Scotland.”  
He stares at her, comprehension washing over him. “You don’t think…”  
“Why not?” she says eagerly. “How many other giant magical forests are there in Britain? None of this size! And we know that according to legend, the Vault of Merlin is in Hogwarts Castle! What if the Vault isn’t a giant library, or a stash of treasure? What if-”  
“What if it’s Merlin’s grave?” Galahad whispers, his stomach clenching with excitement and nerves.  
“Or,” Ailliena says, her eyes shining, “His prison.”


	7. An Unexpected Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First section cowritten with George (Conner is a cinnamon roll, too good for this world). Thank you to Billy, Leo, Brandon, Richard, Chris and Marie who let me pester them ruthlessly!  
> And yes, there were meant to be four plot points covered in this chapter. I ended up covering two of them. This fic has a life of it's own and just wants to be LONG.  
> Also Liza, Brayden and Carric are best chaos trio.

* * *

  
It’s been nearly a month since the Quidditch match, and Conner still hasn’t been able to talk to Ailla about what he heard. It’s not that he hasn’t had the _opportunity_ ; he’s had more than enough chances to ask her about it, as they spend most of their time together, but every time he’s tried he’s somehow ended up talking about something else entirely.  
It’s mostly because he doesn’t know what _to_ say. How do you ask your best friend if she’s actually basically a magical princess? What if he offends her? What if he loses his best friend?  
It isn’t until Ailla enthusiastically asks him if he wants to stay with her over the holidays that he finally manages to get the words out. The two of them are sitting in the courtyard after breakfast, Ailla skimming over a letter from her eldest sister, Sevi, who has invited them both for Christmas.  
“Ailla?”  
“Hmm?” she says, turning the letter over.  
“I…I was wondering…”  
“Yes?” she says, looking up at him quizzically.  
“I…was…wondering…if…if…uh….your tea was nice today?”  
She gave him a slightly strange look. “Um…yes? It was very nice?”  
“Good. Good,” he says, nodding frantically, before hopping to his feet. “Well, I’d better go…go…get my bag…”  
“Conner, you already have your bag.” Ailla’s looking rather bemused now.  
“I…forgot to…get my…uh…” he begins to walk away, letting his sentence trail off. He reaches the door, before turning and running back over to her.  
“AILLA, IS IT TRUE THAT YOU’RE A MAGIC PRINCESS?”  
“ _What_?” she looks startled.  
“I’ve heard things from people about your family and they said you were basically wizarding royalty, and I feel like I’ve been doing everything wrong! Like, do I need to bow?! Am I allowed to talk to you as, as a…you know muggle-born?!”  
He can feel panic rising in his throat. He just basically yelled in her face. He was so rude! He must be such a peasant; she’ll never be able to look at him again! He’s lost his best friend, and he’ll have to go and live in the kitchens, wherever they are.  
“Conner…” Ailla’s eyes are wide. “Of course you don’t have to _bow_ to me! You’re just as magic as me, even if you’re the first in your family. Please never think that you’re not just because you’re muggle-born!” She looks like she’s going to cry, and Conner feels worse because now he’s upset her.  
“Oh no! I’m sorry! I said something wrong, please don’t be sad!”  
“No! You didn’t say anything wrong!” She grabs his hands. “Yes, my family is really old and stuff, but to be honest…” she trails off, biting her lip. “To be honest sometimes I think I’d rather have a family like yours.”  
“But…” Conner stammers. “But don’t you live in a castle?!”  
A bitter look comes over his friend's face. “Yes. Well, a manor house. A bit, empty, lonely manor house that I was never allowed to leave. If Sevi hadn’t invited us to her cottage, I’d be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas.” She let out a cold little laugh. “I’d rather be anywhere than stuck back there.”  
His mind darts to Rapunzel, or Cinderella, or Sleeping Beauty; princesses stuck in towers or castles and locked away. Except she said she _wasn’t_ a princess, not officially one, anyway; but she was still stuck, not allowed to leave.  
“Are you happy?”  
“What?” She looks up at him, a little crease in between her eyebrows.  
“At home, I mean. I just…” He sits back down next to her, “Whenever someone talks about home or family, your eyes go really sad and you like...just...fold in on yourself.”  
She blinks. “I...I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that before.”  
“What, if you’re happy?”  
She scuffs her shoes against the flagstones. “Yeah. I mean...I don’t really know. I wasn’t treated badly or anything. I had lots of books, and I had nice food and my own room and nice clothes and stuff. Just...seeing everyone go off to Hogwarts year after year and leaving me...it was hard. My dad he...doesn’t really talk to me. To any of us. And Elodie and Aurelia were always having special magic lessons with my Mum, or she was taking them to parties or out shopping with her…”  
Conner frowns. “Well, didn’t she take you with her as well?”  
Ailla bites her lip, staring down at the flagstones as if she wishes she could sink into them. There’s a long silence, and Conner is about to break it when Ailla suddenly says in a very small voice: “Do you know what a squib is?”  
“...Some kind of sea creature?” Conner asks, although he doesn’t think that is the answer she’s looking for.  
“No, not a squid. A squib. It’s what they call a person born into a wizarding family who can’t do magic.”  
“But you can do magic? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you do magic…” he says with awkward chuckle  
She gives a little sigh. “Magical children usually display their latent magical powers by the age of seven. I...didn’t. My mother thought...I mean, everyone thought, really...that I couldn’t do magic.”  
Conner’s eyes grow a tad wider with shock at this revelation  
“Wait! You...started magic late and... your parents just cast you aside? That’s….that’s….really mean!” He kicks a small pebble. “Firstly, you’re the most best witch I’ve ever seen in this courtyard, at this time, in the same house as me! But...but...but your family just….I’m sorry, really, really sorry. Families are supposed to hug you and care for you and support you and...and...erm…Yeah! All that stuff! I’m sorry, but your family was really mean to you! If you were a...Fletcher…” he stops suddenly, realising that he’s gone a bit off topic.  
“My siblings were never really mean to me about it,” Ailla says, her eyes fixed on the fountain in the centre of the courtyard. “I mean, Milyan kept trying to like...trigger some kind of magical powers by doing stuff like dangling me over the stairs by my ankles. And Alizarine was always mean, but just because...well, she likes being mean, not because she thought I was a squib. And Father just...never talks to any of us really. But Mother, she’s...very traditional. She’s from the Bonaccord family, they’re a very old French family, and her daughter being a squib...well, it would be the ultimate shame. Social suicide. So, it was easier to pretend I didn’t exist.”  
Conner brushes away a tear swelling in his eye, he sits back down and slowly wraps his arms round Ailla in a supportive hug.  
“I…” He sniffs. “I’m so sorry. It’s all I can say, I never knew how important these things are to wizard families.” He can’t stop sniffing. “Listen, whenever I heard about mean siblings and things happening to my friends, I’ve always told my parents. I could, if you want! I could you know! Have a word and I know Mum would go marching over to your Manor House and have a good word with your Mum and Dad! She doesn’t like bullies and...and she wouldn’t say you told me so they would never know!”   
“Father never really said anything about me being a squib or anything...just...he never really says anything at all.” Ailla’s face is distant, her eyes still fixed on the fountain. Conner realises he doesn’t think he’s ever actually seen her cry; when she’s sad, her face just goes tight and cold, like a computer going into hibernation. “Sevi says he’s sad a lot, because her mum died. That was his first wife, and Sevi says he’s really sad a lot because he loved her a lot. He doesn’t really get on with Mother; it’s almost better now she’s gone because they’re not fighting all the time. I hated it when she was yelling.”  
Conner squeezes tighter with his attempt at a supportive hug. He feels incredibly out of his depth; his parents have bickered a little in the past, but it never lasts and dad usually loses and sleeps on the sofa.  
“Dad says you can’t change the past, so there’s no point dwelling on it, you gotta look at the present! After all, the present is a gift!” He lets out a weak chuckle. “You're at Hogwarts! Best school ever! They were wrong! You are strong! And clever and have magic coming out your ears! You erm… am I helping? I feel like I’m not helping? HEY! Do you wanna do something fun?” He pokes her on the nose.  
She can’t help but smile. “What did you have in mind?”  
He strokes his invisible wizard beard. “Hmmmmm well Miss Devereux, I think we should go and eat copious amounts of chocolate and try to sneak into the restricted section again...THIS time I have a fool proof plan that only involves six cats, a bell, five hundred marbles and a thin piece of string.”  
She laughs, and the sound brings a smile to his face. A smile which quickly fades as he hears the courtyard clock striking nine.  
“Or counterplan; we run to Transfiguration! Race you!” Conner grabs his bag and begins to run out of the courtyard, Ailla hot on his heels.  
“I’ll beat you this time, Fletcher!”

* * *

The Knight Bus comes to a screeching halt in the Cotswolds, sending several people flying out of overstuffed armchairs. Sevi has to reach out an arm to stop Conner flying down the aisle.  
“This is us!” she declares, shepherding her charges down from the third deck, where Ailla and her friends insisted on sitting. She manages to get all seven of them off of the bus, lugging owl cages and bags, and together they step out into the country lane, snow crunching under their feet. She ushers all of her siblings through the iron gate set in the low stone wall, then stops Nevaeh and Conner outside. She pulls out her wand and waves it over each of them in turn, murmuring a rapid string of spells under her breath, before winking, and leading them through the gate.  
“Father put a ton of protective charms over the place when I moved in,” she explains, putting out her keys and heading up to the house. “I made sure they don’t keep my neighbours out though.” She sighs happily. “I love the muggle postman. Their newspapers are very entertaining!”  
The cottage is built of soft yellow stone, with a thatched roof and small diamond pane windows. Ivy and wisteria fight for dominance, climbing the walls and hanging over the doorway.  
Sevi unlocks the door and bustles them all inside. “Go have a seat!” she says. “I’ll put the kettle on.” She heads through the kitchen and begins to fill the kettle from the tap. She can hear the others chatting away in the sitting room; Ailla is explaining something to Conner, and she eavesdrops as she flicks the switch on the kettle and begins to grab mugs.  
“So, the Devereux family came over to England from France in 1066 with the Norman conquest…”  
Sevi rolls her eyes. They all know it; it’s been drummed into their heads. The history of the noble and ancient Devereux family.  
“For a really long time, we were knights and courtiers and stuff; Walter Devereux became the first Viscount of Hereford in 1550, and the title has stayed with the family since. Walter Devereux became Earl of Essex in 1572; his son, Robert Devereux, is still pretty famous with muggles because he led a rebellion against the Elizabeth I so she chopped his head off.”  
“Ailla, how do you even remember half of this crap?” Alizarine’s disdainful voice says. “I’m pretty sure I dozed through most of Grandmother’s lectures on it.”  
Sevi picks up the kettle and begins pouring water into the mugs. In the other room, Ailla ignores her big sister.  
“But if he was magic, how did Elizabeth I chop his head off?” Conner asks. He actually sounds interested in Ailla’s account, but then again, he is a Ravenclaw.  
“Well, a lot of people think that Elizabeth I was magical herself. There was a lot of speculation about Anne Boleyn, and it’s possible that Elizabeth managed to conceal her powers from those around her. She certainly didn’t attend Hogwarts, but she had people like John Dee in her court, and he was a very powerful wizard.”  
“What happened after his head was chopped off?”  
“Well, the Earldom and Viscount title passed to his son, Robert Devereux. There were a lot of Robert Devereuxs. By this time, James I was king, which is when stuff started getting really nasty and the witch hunts started.”  
“Ailla, if I wanted to sit through a History of Magic lesson in my holidays, I would have asked.” Alizarine sounds even more irritable than usual.  
“I’m talking to Conner, not _you_.”  
Sevi smirks at the snap in Ailla’s voice. Little sister may finally be growing a backbone.  
Ailla’s voice continues, slightly louder. “Around the beginning of the 17th century, the magical community began truly separating itself from the muggle one. Robert Devereux had a son, but he pretended that he died and only raised him in the magical community. When Robert died, the muggles didn’t believe he had an heir, so the titles went to his cousin, and his son, also called Robert, withdrew to the Welsh estate and it’s him that we’re all descended from. The Ministry bought in the statute of secrecy in 1689 and the magical and muggle worlds were separated ever since.”  
“Sooooo…technically you’re all Viscounts?”  
“Nah, only Richard would be the Viscount. Well, after Father cops it, anyway,” Carric says in a lazy voice.  
“Technically he gets to be an Earl too,” Sevi says, as she walks in with a tray of mugs. “Because the direct line of the Earl of Essex wasn’t broken. So I’m the Honourable Lady Sevi to you, Conner.” She winks, but the kid looks mortified.  
“I’m so sorry, should I have-”  
She rolls her eyes and shoves a mug of tea in his hand. “I’m messing with you kid. You call me Honourable Lady anything, you don’t get any cake with your tea.”  
All her siblings reach for a cup, but she’s delighted to see most of them are sniffing them suspiciously, unlike Nevaeh and Conner, who have already taken a sip.  
“Pleease,” Sevi says, slumping into a chair. “We have guests! As if I’d poison Ailla’s new friends!”  
Nevaeh chokes on her tea, and Sevi pats her on the back. “I said it wasn’t poisoned, don’t worry! The others are just used to my little experiments.”  
“Sevi makes potions and poisons for the Department of Law Enforcement,” Brayden explains. “She works in the Auror offices.”  
“Loving the Chistmas tree by the way, Sevi,” Carric says in a tone dripping with sarcasm. “Real minimalistic look.”  
Everyone turns to look at the bare pine tree tucked into the alcove to the left of the iron stove.  
“Carric, if you keep up that smartarse tone, you’re not going to get to decorate the house with us,” Sevi replies, wagging a finger.  
“Maybe I don’t want to decorate the house.”  
“Bullshit, you’d love a chance to throw tinsel and glitter on Liza.”  
She can feel her sister’s eyes boring into her, and can’t help but smirk slightly.  
“Point taken, Sevi; I would _love_ to help you all decorate.”  
“Finish your tea then, kids; it’s tinsel time.”

Ailla’s new friends are great fun. Nevaeh is enthralled by the electric outlets that Sevi has all over the house, and almost loses her mind when Sevi shows her the television and her computer. Conner is showing Ailla how to change channels, and Sevi thinks her sister’s eyes are going to pop out of her head. Conner turns out to be a great help with decorations as well. He expertly connects the muggle fairy lights for them, and shows Ailla and Nevaeh how to make paperchains. Brayden is having the time of his life; he has somehow become artistic director, and is showing the others how to make sure that the tree decorations are balanced and tasteful. Elodie has turned the radio up as far as it will go, and is belting out ‘ _Accio Christmas_ ’ by Celestina Warbeck, spinning around with baubles dangling from her ears. Meanwhile, Carric and Alizarine have already destroyed two strands of tinsel: one was draped over Alizarine’s shoulders like a sparkly feather boa and was subsequently ripped to shreds; the other had to be cut off Carric by Sevi herself because Alizarine tried to strangle him with it and he was starting to go blue.  
Sevi takes a moment to pause and look out over all of them, leaning against the doorframe. She’s never seen them like this. Christmas in their house has always been a very formal affair. Most of them would stay at Hogwarts over the holidays, but on the occasions they did venture home, they had to sit quietly and be polite during Rosaline’s cocktail parties, and of course, her infamous Yule Ball. Funnily enough, most of them had got sick of being paraded around like show ponies.  
Sevi only has a vague memory of the last time she got to decorate a Christmas tree. She must have been around four, and Morvah, Carric and Brayden’s mum had taken her out to catch live fairies to decorate the tree. It was hazy, but she could remember crunching through the snow with her to the woods, her mittened hand in Morvah’s as the tall, serious woman had shown her how to talk a fairy into decorating your tree. Mainly flattery; fairies are vain little creatures, and love nothing more than sitting inside in a nice warm room, posing on branches and being admired.  
Rosaline had always hired someone to decorate the trees for her, and the fairies she hung on there were in cages. She remembered once being told off because she’d let the ones on the lower branches out during one of Rosaline’s dinners. She hadn’t regretted it though; Rosaline shrieking as she had her hairpins pulled out and stolen by fairies was the only time she’d seen her father smile all evening.  
The younger ones had never got to decorate a tree. As she watches Carric and Brayden try and hang more decorations on Alizarine without her noticing, she feels a sudden burst of sadness.  
Well. The bitch is in France, and France can bloody well have her.

Dinner is takeaway from the fish and chip shop in the village, followed up with giant slabs of the Victoria sponge that Mrs James from the next cottage along had dropped off the day before. Sevi makes a mental note to send the older three to go and buy the old lady’s shopping for her the next morning, so she wouldn’t have to walk through the snow. Then decides to maybe send Conner with them to stop them exposing the wizarding world in Tesco by trying to pay in galleons or something. The younger kids have all headed off to bed, and Carric, Alizarine and Brayden are playing the world’s most aggressive game of exploding snap down in the living room.  
Sevi has changed into her pyjamas and is sitting on her bed checking over a couple of case files when there’s a little knock at the door. She looks up over her glasses.  
“Yes?”  
Ailla’s head pokes around the door. “Can I come in?”  
“Sure. What’s up kid?”  
Her sister heads over and climbs into bed with her, snuggling up to her side. “What’re you reading?”  
Sevi quickly shuts the casefile, concealing the photo inside from Ailla. She doesn’t want to give her little sister nightmares. “Ah, just work stuff.” She puts an arm around her. “You just come for a cuddle?”  
“Yeah…” Ailla is nibbling her lip, an Sevi slowly raises an eyebrow, waiting. One…two…three… “Sevi, can I ask you something?”  
“Sure thing.”  
“Well…do you know anything about the Vault of Merlin?”  
Sevi stares at her for a second, before beginning to laugh.  
“What? What’s funny?” Ailla’s look of indignation is just _adorable_.  
Sevi slips out of the bed and heads over to her desk, opening the bottom drawer, pulling out a stack of paper, before heading over to her sister and dumping it on her lap. “Where do you want to start, baby sis?”  
“I’m not a baby,” Ailla grumbles, but she’s already reaching out for the top piece of paper. “What’s this?”  
”Everything I ever found out about the Vault of Merlin. Hell, I even narrowed the location down to about five possibilities, but I could never find the bloody thing. Managed to make a really good map of Hogwarts in the process though. Here.” She pushes it into her sister’s hands. “You’ll probably find it useful.”  
“You…you were looking for the Vault of Merlin too?”  
Sevi laughs. “Of course! A magic vault made by our ancestor? I’m too nosy to pass that up.”  
She bundles the papers up as neatly as she can, piling them into her sisters arms. “Tell you what. You can keep all of these so long as you keep me updated on your search okay?”  
“Okay!” Ailla says eagerly. “But you need to tell me everything you know!”  
“I will. But not now.” Sevi pokes her nose gently. “Because now is your bedtime. Go on.”  
Ailla pouts, but rolls out of Sevi’s bed. In the process, she knocks the casefile to the floor. She looks down and goes still. “Oh…”  
“Don’t look.” Sevi’s voice is sharp as she snatches the photo up and tucks it away.  
“Was…was that a person?”  
“A dead one, yes.”  
“They…” Ailla looks up Sevi, clutching the papers to her chest. “They were…I didn’t know the human body could bend like that.”  
“Best not to think of it.” Sevi forces a bright smile onto her face, as she leans over and kisses her sister on the head. “We’ve got it sorted. Now go to bed or you’ll be too tired to go with Conner to the Supermarket tomorrow.”  
“Okay!” Ailla perks up and heads out of the room. The smile slowly falls from Sevi’s face as she slides the photo back into the file, and she finds herself wishing for a moment that she was like Ailla; that she could believe, so easily, that the grownups had everything sorted.

* * *

Christmas morning dawns crisp and cold, with a fresh layer of snow covering the ground and clinging to the trees. Richard, Silas and Milyan all arrived last night, so Brayden and Carric, who have the biggest room after Sevi, now have an Alizarine sleeping on a campbed. Sevi’s cottage has five bedrooms; she says because she knew she’d end up with the majority of the family staying over at one point or another, and they’ve all managed to squeeze in, even Milyan who is on another campbed in a the smallest room which acts as Sevi’s office.  
Carric is snoring, and Brayden resist the urge to elbow him, instead taking the opportunity to laze in the double bed they’re sharing. He has to give it to Sevi; she knows how to pick a comfy mattress. He rolls over and smirks. Alizarine looks almost angelic when she’s asleep; fair hair spilling over her pillows, usual scowl absent. He wishes he had a camera; cute Alizarine, especially one without a load of eyeliner, would make for excellent blackmail material.  
He suddenly hears Sevi swear loudly next door, and Carric’s snoring cuts out as he jerks upright. “Wha-?”  
Brayden groans. “Ailla’s awake. Sounds like she just jumped on Sevi. Brace yourself…”  
“IT’S CHRISTMAS!”  
“OOF!”  
Brayden escapes the worst of it this time, but Carric nearly gets his nose broken as Ailla bursts through the door and jumps on their bed.  
There’s even more swearing as Alizarine jerks awake at the noise, wand waving as if she’s worried there’s an attack. She rolls her eyes when she sees that it’s Ailla.  
“I thought it was a stampede of hippogriffs or something…” She flops back onto her bed.  
“PRESENTS!” Ailla is shrieking. “Look, I have a stocking!” She brandishes the item in question. “Look, you all have them too!”  
Brayden glances down and realises that he does indeed have his very own stocking full of presents. Sevi really is bloody sneaky.  
“Can we open them?! Can we open them Sevi?!”  
“Downstairs, yes. And only once you’ve stopped screaming.” Sevi is standing in the doorway, grinning. “Coffee anyone?”

They end up all sitting around in Sevi’s sitting room, clutching mugs of tea or coffee and going around in a circle taking it in turn to open presents.  
Ailla is initially put out that Conner won’t get a stocking too, as he’s gone home to spend Christmas with his family, but Sevi reassures her that she’s made sure he’s got it. Brayden isn’t sure what Conner’s parents will make of a stocking full of magical items mysteriously arriving in their house, but he’s sure Conner will enjoy it.  
Nevaeh hasn’t stopped beaming all morning; Brayden has a distinct feeling that if she was at home right now, she wouldn’t be opening anything. He and Carric have had a few run-ins with Aloysius and Ignatius over the years, and they’ve all too happy to have another excuse to hex them in the corridors. The two of them even had a quiet word with Liza, asking her to keep an eye out on Nevaeh, who they have decided to adopt as an honorary little sister, and, too their surprise, Liza actually agreed. In fact, Veya’s the only person in the room that Liza hasn’t ever glared at.  
Stockings done, they manage to wolf down a bit of toast before they’re banished from the kitchen as Sevi begins to prepare the mammoth task of cooking Christmas lunch. Several of them offer to help, but she just shakes her head and shuts the door in their faces, so instead they decided to take advantage of the enchantments on the house and the high hedge around the garden to play a game of four-a-side quidditch, on the condition that they immediately land if any of her neighbours turn up.  
Nevaeh starts off sitting out until Carric convinces her to be referee, and after some coaxing, she gets on one of the brooms Sevi’s leant them, and they take turns switching in and out.  
Carric and Liza are on the same team for once, but they keep forgetting and trying to foul each other, to the point that Brayden nearly falls off his broom laughing. He finally settles as ref; he’s never enjoyed flying as much as the rest of his siblings, and the teams end up pretty evenly divided; Richard, Alizarine, Carric and Nevaeh vs Silas, Milyan, Elodie and Ailla.  
Brayden has never seen Ailla fly before, and he has to admit that she’s not half bad at it, making some pretty good passes to Elodie; but she spooks easily, falling off her broom when Liza flies at her aggressively and having to be caught by Richard.  
Nevaeh starts off a bit hesitant, but grows a lot more confident throughout, managing to get two goals past Silas (although Brayden thinks he may have let her have the first one on purpose). She’s very fast and agile, and he can just see the cogs turning in Liza’s head as she assesses a potential trainee seeker.

After a while, Sevi yells at them to come in and lay the table, and the group of them traipses inside to help. When they head into the dining room, which Sevi seems to have expanded with magic, they find two more guests waiting there.  
“Emrys! Betta!”  
The group of them gather around to greet the two house elves, who of course have to be hugged by everyone.  
“They’re not allowed to help with anything,” Sevi calls from the kitchen. “You lot have to set the table, Emrys and Betta, you sit down.”  
“But Miss Sevi-”  
“No buts, Emrys. My house, my rules and you are both guests.”  
They all end up sitting around the table, the two house elves propped up on piles of cushions so that they are level with the table. Sevi glances at the clock, and her eyes flick to the empty seat at the end of the table.  
“Typical,” she mutters, before beginning to hand out starters.  
She’s just about to sit down when there’s a sharp knock at the door, and a look of triumph comes over her face.  
“Here he is…” she heads out into the hall and ushers the new guest inside. Brayden is halfway through taking a bite of his goats’ cheese, and nearly spits it out when the man steps into the room. The entire table falls silent, staring at the new guest, who Sevi is firmly leading to the empty chair.  
“Master Uther, sir,” Emrys squeaks out.  
“Betta is so glad you could join us,” the other house elf says, giving Uther a big toothy smile.  
No one else seems so share the house elves sentiments.  
Carric is glowering; Ailla’s smile has faded; Richard looks slightly resigned.  
“Crackers!” Sevi declares, sitting next to Uther and grabbing her own, brandishing it at him. “Everyone!”  
They all cross arms, each taking the end of a cracker and pulling.  
The loud bangs echo slightly too loudly in the awkward silence, but then Sevi is forcing them all to tell their jokes, and they’re all putting on their hats, and somehow Uther has been bullied into wearing a flowered bonnet and Ailla can’t stop giggling, and somehow the lines on their father’s face have relaxed slightly, and he doesn’t even object when Sevi lets Carric, Brayden and Liza have some of the elf made wine.  
“What’s the difference between a kneezle and a comma?” Liza is saying to their father, looking comically grumpy in the jester hat that Carric and Brayden forced onto her head. She kept taking it off until Sevi threatened to use a permanent sticking charm on her hair.  
Uther pinches the bridge of his nose, as if in anticipation of a headache. “I don’t know.” He says in an unamused voice.  
Liza lets out a deep sigh in anticipation of the punchline. “A kneezle has claws at the end of it’s paws…but a comma is a pause at the end of a clause.”  
Ailla, a few seats down, lets out a laugh. “Oh! A grammar joke! How funny!”  
Liza’s look of disbelief sets Carric off, who chokes on his drink, which makes Brayden begin to chuckle, until all of them are laughing; even Uther lets out a dry chuckle.  
The laughter is broken off however, when someone begins hammering on the front door. They fall silent, looking at each other for a moment, before Sevi gets up to answer it.  
Before she’s even taken a couple of steps, Uther has thrown himself in front of her.  
“I’ll answer it. Just in case.”  
She rolls her eyes. “Dad, no one uninvited can cross the boundaries. You know that; you set up the enchantments.”  
“Enchantments aren’t always fool proof,” he says darkly, but Sevi pushes him out the way and heads to the door, opening it.  
“Constans, what-”  
There’s a sudden slam as the door is hastily shut behind someone, and then a lot of muffled whispering.  
Brayden leans back in his chair, trying to hear what they’re saying out in the hall, and he isn’t the only one; Alizarine and Carric are both obviously earwigging, and Elodie has even got out of her seat on the pretence of getting some more water.  
“…Muggle carol service…not sure how many…need everyone we can get…”  
There’s footsteps, and Sevi is back in the room alongside a man with sea green eyes, and dark blonde hair sticking up at odd angles as if he’s been running his hands through it.  
“Richard.” He gives their brother a nod.  
“Another attack?” Richard says, standing up and removing his napkin and gaudy tiara.  
“It’s bad. All hands on deck,” the new man says shortly, his eyes looking around at the assembled family.  
“On it.” Richard is pulling out his wand.  
“Okay, pudding is in the kitchen, don’t burn the house down, I’ll be back soon,” Sevi says, pulling her own wand out. She gives it a flick, and a brown leather satchel flies down the stairs and into the room with a _clink_. She pulls it on over her shoulder.  
“Sevigwylis. Richard.” Brayden can see that their father’s face is white and pinched, his eyes glittering.  
“Dad, we’ll be fine,” Sevi says, pulling on a cloak. “I’ll mainly be a first responder anyway.” She rattles her bag, and Brayden can make out the sound of full potions bottles. “I need you to stay here Dad, okay? Hold the fort.”  
“I’ll come with you.” Uther is pulling out his own wand.  
“Ministry personnel only,” the blonde man, Contans, says firmly.  
“Dad!” There’s an edge to Sevi’s tone now. “I need you to stay here.” Her eyes indicate the rest of the room, where all of the Devereux’s and Nevaeh are sitting, staring at them.  
For a moment, it looks like Uther is going to argue, but then he just nods, gripping Sevi’s arm tightly.  
“Watch each other’s backs. If you get into a fight, remember to hit them even after they’re down. Just in case.”  
He slips something into her hand, and nods to both of them. “Go on.”  
“We’ll see you all in a couple of hours, okay?” Richard says, giving them all a warm smile, before the three of them disappear with a _crack._  
The rest of them stare at the space they just left, until Uther steps forwards. “Right. I think you should all grab your things as quickly as possible and then we’ll head to Devereux Manor.”  
“ _What_?” Carric looks furious. “Sevi told us to stay here.”  
“The manor is more secure. I’ll get word to Sevi.”  
“You haven’t even told us what’s happening,” Brayden interjects.  
“Nor do I intend too. You heard them. Ministry business.”  
“You can’t just tell us nothing and expect us to obey you without question!”  
“How would you even move us? If there’s trouble, putting us out in the open will expose us more,” Carric chimes in, and he and Brayden look at each other in solidarity; this is not unlike arguments they’ve had to have before with their father.  
“I can apperate you.”  
“What, all nine of us at once?” Carric’s voice is incredulous. “Or are you going to leave eight of us here then apperate us out one by one.”  
Uther’s lips are white. “Fine. We stay here. But no one leaves this house.”  
“Just like old times.” Carric’s reply is cold. “Come on Brayden, let’s get the pudding.  
But none of them can enjoy it much, even though Sevi’s cooking is exceptional. They all end up in the sitting room with hot drinks, picking at Christmas cake now and then. Elodie tries to get a game going, but it peters off and they fall into little groups, muttering to each other in low voices. Uther sits alone by the door of the room in an armchair, wand in hand as if he is some sort of sentinel.  
Brayden eventually cracks, and heads upstairs to their bedroom with Carric and Liza, after having to convince their father that no one is going to jump them on the stairs.  
Liza has smuggled a bottle of the elf wine up with them and half a bottle of fire whiskey, and the three of them make camp on the double bed, passing the alcohol around the circle.  
“It’s been over four hours,” Liza says, glancing at the dark sky outside of the window.  
“They’ll be okay,” Carric says, punching her arm gently. Brayden can see that her fingers are flexing around the neck of the wine bottle, and there’s lipstick on her teeth from where she’s been nervously chewing her lip. For once, he doesn’t mention it.  
“What do you think happened?” Brayden says, although from what snippets he’s heard over the past six months, he thinks he has an inkling. Richard and Avalon’s tired faces in the Leaky Cauldron come to mind, along with hurriedly slammed doors and whispered conversations.  
“Something they really don’t want us to know about,” Liza says, taking another swig from the bottle. “Or the Daily Prophet.”  
“It sounded like…muggle killings.” Carric has moved on to the fire whiskey by this point. “But how the fuck could they hide something like that from the Prophet?”  
“Gas leaks,” Liza said drolly, staring up at the ceiling. “Who cares if a couple of muggles get blown up by their own inventions, right?” She snorts and takes another swig.  
“That or a shit ton of money,” Brayden says.  
“The Prophet? In the ministry’s pocket? Never.” Carric’s tone is dripping with sarcasm. “What would ever give you that idea?”  
“Aren’t most deals in the Ministry simply made by jingling a bag of coins?” Alizarine says. “I’ve overheard Richard and Avalon bitching about it enough.”  
There’s a creak outside the door, and all three of them shoot up, wands flying out. They lower as they see Ailla sticking her head around the door.  
“Can we come in?” she says, and Brayden waves his hand, gesturing her inside. Nevaeh follows her, looking anxious, and Brayden feels a stab of pity for her; this was supposed to be a Christmas away from her family drama and she’s just been sucked into theirs.  
“Oh, come on then,” Alizarine says, and the two girls clamber up onto the bed with them, Ailla resting her head against her sister, and Nevaeh resting against Ailla. There’s another creak, and Carric rolls his eyes.  
“Yes, Elodie, you can come in too.”  
Brayden is glad that Sevi bought such as big bed as his other little sister joins them.  
They all stay this way, into the early hours of the morning. Ailla falls asleep, her head resting on Liza’s lap, and Brayden pretends not to see his usually fierce big sister stroking his youngest sister’s hair. Nevaeh is snuggled up with Ailla, asleep as well, the two girls holding hands tightly. Elodie is curled up in a ball with a pillow, but she’s awake, her eyes gleaming in the low light as she, like the rest of them, waits for news.  
Finally, there’s a crack downstairs. Brayden jumps to his feet, careful not to disturb the two sleeping eleven-year-olds, and he, Carric and Elodie run down the stairs, leaving Alizarine trapped under Ailla and looking very grumpy.  
Brayden follows the sound of voices to the kitchen, where he and the others hesitate outside the door.  
“Twenty-two muggles, Dad…we had to pretend it was a gas leak…the Obliviators had to deal with the rest, while we dealt with the rest of those bastards.”  
“Most of them scarpered in the end.” That’s Richards voice. “Those cowards. They’re fine attacking muggles, but once someone who can defend themselves turns up, they run. We managed to capture a couple, killed one, but one of ours was killed as well.”  
“We’re not allowed to tell anyone, of course.” Brayden recognises Avalon’s voice. “Walter Upwold has put a blanket ban on it, and the Prophet is in his pockets. And of course it wouldn’t do for our perfect minister to have something like this besmirching his term.”  
“Mariot Prince is spitting flames.” Richard again. “I thought she was going to deck Upwold right there and then.”  
Brayden shifts slightly, and one of Sevi’s treacherous floorboards creaks. The kitchen falls silent, and he, Carric and Elodie give each other a panicked glance, before pushing the door open.  
Avalon is sitting on the table, her dark braid bedraggled, and Sevi is dabbing at a cut on her forehead with a vivid green potion. Richard has a black eye, but seems otherwise unharmed, and is rubbing some kind of paste into the bruise from a pot their father is holding.  
“We heard you apperate back,” Carric says. “What happened?”  
They all look at each other meaningfully, before looking back at the boys.  
“I am one hundred percent not allowed to tell you,” Sevi says. “Because, you know, I rather like having a job.”  
“Where are the others?” Uther asks, and Brayden jerks his head in the direction of the bedrooms.  
“Ailla and Veya are asleep. Liza’s got an eye on them.”  
“And you should be asleep too,” Richard adds, glancing at the clock. “It’s nearly two in the morning.”  
“We were too worried to sleep,” Elodie interjects, her face stubborn, and Richard gives a sigh.  
“Well, we’re all back now, and we’re fine, so there’s nothing to worry about, okay? So the three of you head back upstairs.”  
“But-” Carric starts to object, but Uther’s face darkens.  
“Upstairs, now,” he says in a cold voice. Carric looks like he wants to argue, and Brayden has a mind to back him up, but Elodie is tugging on both of their hands, and the three of them end up slowly slinking back upstairs.  
They grab the blankets and pillows from the other rooms; Alizarine is now tucked into bed with the two girls and is looking both irritated and protective, like a reluctant mother hen with a machete.  
Elodie takes Liza’s campbed, and Brayden and Carric end up on a pile of cushions with a duvet flung over them. They update Liza in a hurried whisper, before trying to finally get some sleep.  
But Brayden doesn’t sleep until dawn’s golden fingers are brushing against the curtains, and he has the distinct feeling that he is not the only one in the room lying awake, wondering what is to come.


	8. Bloodlines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, JK Rowling taking on her final form as a TERF kinda killed the keen for this. However, I've had some chats with my trans friends who have characters in this story, and you've all said that you're comfortable with me continuing it and rubbing my gay LARPer hands all over Hogwarts, so I guess....we're back, bitches?
> 
> Also, if I was writing a novel, this would all have spread out over several chapters in much more detail. However, this was meant to be a cute seven chapter fanfic which has now got a life of it's own and we're now nearly 40,000 words in and STILL on first year so no, no more, this is the penultimate first year chapter, we're just gonna cram this all in :P
> 
> Thanks to Ruby, Darya, Charlie, Sophie, George and Marie for giving me feedback. First year idiot squad is go.

* * *

By March, Ailla thinks she’s going to go insane. She’s been searching the school for seven months now, but she keeps hitting dead end after dead end. Sevi’s notes have helped her get further than she ever thought she would, but searching a giant castle for secret symbols which only those of Merlin’s blood can see is _difficult_ , especially when it’s so big. Sure, she could get her family to help her, she supposes, but that would involve admitting firstly, what she’s been doing, and secondly that she can’t do it alone. Then they’d decide it was too dangerous for her, and they’d take over the search, and then _they’d_ find Merlins’ Vault and she wouldn’t. The only family member she wants to tell is Gwen, and she _will_ do so…once she’s actually found something other than wild theories.  
It is, in fact, Conner who gives her the idea which solves everything. It’s so simple, so obvious she can’t believe she didn’t think of it herself. The two of them are sitting in the common room, Conner writing his Potions essay, Ailla practically tearing her hair out as she marks another corridor off of her map. Sure, she’s found some symbols but does she know what they mean? No. No she absolutely doesn’t. She thinks they are ancient runes, but she’s not sure what dialect, and she’ll need a pass to get an older level book out the library...maybe she can steal Liza’s?  
“What’s wrong?”  
Conner’s voice makes her jump so violently that she nearly knocks her ink over.  
“What?”  
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he says, his eye concerned. “You look upset.”  
“Oh…it’s just there’s historical information I’m trying to find,” she says, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “But I can’t find it in any books. I think it must be too old.”  
“Huh,” Conner says, considering this for a moment. “Well…you could always try asking one of the ghosts?”  
She’s an idiot. She is a colossal idiot. Why didn’t she think of that? She jumps to her feet, her eyes wide.  
“Conner Fletcher,” she says, “You are an absolute genius. A bloody genius.” She runs over and throws her arms around him, kissing him on the cheek, before snatching up her bag and legging it out of the room, leaving a very bemused and stammering Conner.

She finds the Grey Lady near the astronomy tower, staring out across the courtyard from the window. “Excuse me, Ma’am,” she says, trying not to pant after running up the stairs, “Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”  
The woman turns to her, looking her up and down, and, seeing her Ravenclaw tie, her haughty face softens slightly. “Of course, child. How can I help?”  
Ailla sits on the window ledge next to her, pulling out her notebook. “Um, apologies if this is an insensitive question, but from your dress, I can deduce that when you were alive it was the late 900’s, am I correct?”  
The ghost slowly raises an eyebrow, but inclines her head.  
“Well…I was wondering if you knew…knew anything about…”  
“If this is about the lost diadem of Ravenclaw child, I’m afraid I cannot help you,” the woman says, her face becoming less welcoming all of a sudden.  
Ailla blinks up at her. “What? No, actually, I was wondering what you could tell me about…well about Merlin? And…” she shuffles her feet. “If you knew anything about…about the Vault?”  
The woman relaxes slightly. “Forgive me. I am so used to students coming to me and begging for help finding that retched tiara…it’s a refreshing change to be asked about something else.” She settles on the windowsill. “Why do you wish to know?”  
“Well, curiosity, mostly,” Ailla says with a shrug. “But also because…well, they say my family is descended from Merlin and I want to know more.”  
“Ahhh. One of the Devereux’s. I’d count that against you, if I didn’t like your brother so much.” Her eyes twinkle. “Brayden and I have had many interesting conversations. Now, let me see…Merlin was at Hogwarts before my time, but I did know him when I was a child. He, Arthur, Morgan and Gwenhwyfar were amongst the first students of Hogwarts. You’ll have studied most of this already in class; Arthur united the wizard population against growing tensions with the muggles, although I notice they tend to leave out that it was also because of conflict with our fellow European wizards.” She gives a slight snort. “He was killed by the dark wizard Mordred, and Merlin vanished after his battle with his former lover Morgan. I’m afraid I can’t really tell you much more than you already know; and to be honest, child, I’m not sure I would. The Vault is probably lost for a reason; I would not let a child into it, even if I knew where it was.” She must see the disappointed look on Ailla’s face, because she quickly adds: “But, there’s a series of painting depicting the events on the seventh floor, two corridors down from the tapestry of the dancing trolls. You could go and take a look, if you like.”  
“Thank you for your time,” Ailla says, a little dolefully, and the Lady gives her an indulgent smile before sailing off through the wall. There’s still an hour before curfew, so Ailla heads down the spiral staircase and trudges along the corridor, past the tapestry of the trolls in the direction she was given. Indeed, the tapestries on the wall do tell the story; Arthur is there, waving his magical sword; Morgan casts her wicked spells; Gwenhwyfar runs away with Lancelot. The paintings are cracked and faded; they’re not like the oil paintings which decorate the rest of the castle. They are painted onto dark, splintering wood in a completely different style which speaks to their age. She comes to a halt opposite the tapestry in the centre of the corridor. Three women stand framed, their hands all resting on the hilt of a sword which is raised aloft. They are all wearing flowing blue and white robes, but each is different; one with brown skin and tumbling black hair; one pale skinned with flaming red curls; and the third with a sandy blonde braid down her back. All of them stand on the banks of a lake surrounded by snow capped mountains.  
“The Lady of the Lake,” Ailla whispers, running her hands over the threads, although she is not sure why there are three women shown. Maybe two of them are like…assistant Lake Ladies?  
Red-hot pain suddenly flares through her hand, and she pulls it back from the tapestry, gasping. Something has cut into her skin; blood is trickling from her palm. She watches as the drops hit the tapestry and suddenly, to her surprise, they begin to move, wriggling across the threads until spiky runes have formed. She quickly pulls out her book and copies them down, managing to commit them all to paper before they fade. She can feel her heart pounding; this is it. This is what they’ve been waiting for. It’s time to assemble her team.  
  


* * *

Guinevere is used to Ailla asking to meet her in the library, but it’s normally for homework sessions. This time, she finds what looks like a battle planning station.  
Ailla is flipping through the notes which lie around the edge of the table, surrounding what looks like a map. Galahad, a third year boy who Gwen recognises from the quidditch team is standing behind her, placing chess pieces on different points on the map.  
“Hi Gwen,” Ailla says, giving her a bright smile and waving her over. “Have a seat.”  
“What’s going on?” Gwen asks, but Ailla just gives a mysterious smile.  
“I’ll explain when everyone gets here, okay?”  
“Okay…” Gwen frowns, examining the map on the table. “Is this a map of Hogwarts?”  
“Mmhm,” Ailla says absently, moving one of Galahad’s chess pieces slightly. “I’d started making one of my own, but then Sevi gave me this one and it’s like a hundred times better.”  
“Oh, okay…” Gwen leans over her shoulder. “Why did you need a map of Hogwarts?”  
“Heeeeey Ailla! Hey Gwen!” Conner bounds up to the table, taking a seat on Gwen’s other side. “Oh, are we playing a game today?”  
“Not quite,” Ailla says, shifting another of the pieces. “Now, we’re just waiting for…”  
“Sorry I’m late!” Veya slides into the seat opposite, putting her bag down on the floor.  
“It’s not problem,” Ailla says, shooting her a quick smile. “Okay, now we’re all here, the meeting can begin.”  
“Ooooh, are we finally going to find out about your super secret project?” Conner says, looking eager.  
Ailla narrows her eyes at him. “How do you know about my project? I haven’t told anyone except-”  
“Galahad, yes.” Conner nods happily. “I just noticed that you were doing a load of research, and had a separate notebook for when you were reading them and that you kept meeting Galahad outside of your tutoring sessions and I assumed you were up to something together but you’d tell me when you were ready which I assume you are now?”  
There is silence around the table for a minute, before Galahad laughs. “You just got out-Ravenclawed, Ailla.”  
Ailla gives a haughty little sniff, and shoots Conner a look which is half irritation, half admiration. “Well. Yes. Okay. You are correct. I have gathered you here today to tell you about my…super-secret project.”   
“Namely our search for the Vault of Merlin,” Galahad chips in, and Ailla pouts.  
“Hey, I thought I was going to do the speech?”  
“I’m so sorry, Professor Devereux, I’ll keep my mouth shut and sit and look pretty, shall I?” he replies with a smirk, and she glares at him, before turning back to the rest of the table. Gwen finds herself trying not to giggle.  
“The Vault of Merlin is a legendary chamber which is believed to be located somewhere in Hogwarts. No one is quite sure what is inside it, or why it was created, but Galahad and I have a theory.” She begins to pace back and forth in front of them, like a comically small professor. “As you know from History of Magic, Merlin was believed killed or imprisoned by Morgana, or Morgan le Fey as she is sometimes known. We have theorised that perhaps it is within this very Vault that Merlin, or his body resides. If not, then finding it would still be super interesting.”  
“Do you have any idea where it might be?” Gwen asks, feeling a tingle of excitement. This is an adventure, a real one like she’d always read about in her stories!  
“We’ve narrowed it down…well, mainly using Sevi’s research, to be honest…” Ailla shrugs. “But it was Conner who actually gave me the final clue.”  
“I…I did?” Conner says, going bright red. Ailla nods.  
“I went and spoke to the Grey Lady, and she directed me to a corridor with tapestries and pictures relating to the story of Merlin. And when I touched one of them…” she holds up her hand and wiggles it, and Gwen frowns seeing a bandage.  
“What happened, Ailla? Are you hurt?”  
“It’s just a small cut. But it was like…the tapestry took my blood and used it to spell out this.”  
She raises her book, and shows them a series of runes.  
“What does it say?” Gwen asks.  
“I’m not sure,” Ailla confesses. “But I know who could probably translate it. Trouble is, she’d never do it for me.”  
“Who?” Veya asks eagerly.  
“Alizarine. She takes Ancient Runes at NEWT level.”  
“But she’s your sister!” Veya says. “Why wouldn’t she help you?”  
Ailla pulls a face. “We’re not…super close. Like, she’d beat up anyone who was mean to me, but she wouldn’t do me a favour. And she’d start asking questions if it was me. Buuuuut, if it was Guinevere...or even you Veya…well, she has soft spots for both of you.”  
“But…what would we even tell her?” Veya stammers.  
“That you found it reading a History textbook and that you’re not sure what it means, and she’s _so_ good at runes that _please_ can she translate it for you?” Ailla gives a winning smile.  
“Ailla, that’s lying!” Gwen says, shifting slightly in her seat.  
“Yeeeees, but it’s for the greater good?” Ailla says with a beseeching smile. “Come on Gwen, you know what Liza’s like; she’d never let us find the vault if she knew what we were up too. And boom, there goes our adventure.”  
There is a crash, and suddenly a flailing ball of red hair and robes clatters down into their midst, a couple of books falling after it with a thud.  
They all stare as the figure slowly rights itself, brushing down their robes.  
“Emberlynn?” Gwen says, staring at her friend.  
“What adventure are you going on?” the redhead says, giving them a grin. “Can I come?” She squeezes into the space between Gwen and Conner, wrapping an arm around Gwen’s shoulders.  
“There’s no adventure,” Ailla says smoothly. “We were just…discussing a boardgame.”  
“Oh really?” Emberlyn raises an eyebrow. “What’s the game called?”  
“Secret Vault.”  
“Well, can I play?”  
“Sorry, there’s already enough of us.”  
“Well, most boardgames have two to six players so…”  
“Well, this one doesn’t.”  
“You knoooooow,” Emberlyn says, her face innocent. “I was on the other side of that bookshelf for a while…”  
Ailla’s eyes narrow.  
“Ailla, Emberlynn’s my friend,” Gwen says quickly. “We can trust her.”  
“Mmmhm. I’m very trustworthy.” Emberlyn nods.  
Ailla sighs, but nods. “Okay. Fine. But the six of us. That’s it, okay? We don’t tell anyone else.” She turns to Emberlyn. “You ready to discover Merlin’s lost vault?”  
Emberlyn looks like she’s just been told she’s getting a second Christmas.

* * *

Cal has managed to get one of the best chairs next to the fire, and is just beginning to doze off when a little voice says: “Excuse me?”  
He opens an eye and sees the tiny first year that Liza has taken a liking too standing in front of them, clutching a piece of paper.  
“What is it, Veya?” Liza says, looking up from her book on parseltongue.  
“S-sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could have some help?” the girl says, her big blue eyes nervous.  
“Depends,” Liza says, languidly turning a page. “What do you need help with?”  
“I…I was reading this book for History of Magic, and I found these runes and I don’t know what they say…do you think you could help me?”  
Cal sits up at that; if there’s one thing he enjoys, it’s rune translations. “Let us take a look, kid,” he says, pulling the paper towards him as Liza pulls out their textbook. “Hm. Anglo-Saxon.” Liza flicks to the respective page, and the two of them bend over the paper, beginning to jot down the corresponding runes and their meanings in their notebooks while Veya watches anxiously.  
“Simple enough…”Liza murmurs. “Now to translate it from the old English.”

“Blód, blódsihtan…there’s a lot of blood in here, Veya…” Cal says, scratching his nose with his quill. “What are you studying in class?”  
“Merlin, in history of magic? I found it in the library and thought it might make for good extra reading?”  
Cal sits back from their work and glances at Liza, before both of them look back at Veya who is still hovering there, now looking nervous under their scrutiny. “Do you know what it says?” she asks.

“ _A prisoner by blood thrice bound,  
The price for blood undone,  
Sleep under stone far underground  
Our gift will end what we begun.”_

Alizarine recites, and Cal exchanges another look with her as Veya begins copying it down, frowning. “That’s…you’re right, that’s a lot of blood. I don’t understand, what does that have to do with Merlin?”  
“Which Professor did you say assigned this?” Cal asks as casually as he can, leaning back in his seat.  
“Well, the book wasn’t assigned; I told you, I found it in the library, and thought I’d do some extra reading, and the runes were in a picture in the book and I thought I’d try and find out what they said in case I could use it in my essay.”  
“Where in the library did you find this book?” Cal asks, before Liza can go in with the more aggressive approach he just _knows_ she’s about to take.  
“Um…on one of the shelves?” Veya blinks, her face the picture of innocence. “It was in the History of Magic section.”  
Her face is completely guileless, and Cal can’t help but thinks that she looks almost _too_ angelic. He reminds himself that she may be a sweet eleven-year-old girl, but she _is_ still in Slytherin. “Veya, do you think you’d be able to show me this book?”  
She blinks. “I can’t, I already put it back in the returns box! Why, is there something wrong?”  
“What you just gave us to translate sounds like some serious dark magic shit, Veya.” Ah, there goes Liza with her usual tact and grace.  
“What we’re saying is that it sounds like some kind of ancient curse and we want to make sure you’re okay.”  
“A…a curse?” Veya’s voice squeaks, and Cal is pretty sure the shock and fear on her face is genuine. “Am…am I cursed?”  
Liza laughs. “No, you’re fine. We just wouldn’t want a book like that round where anyone could find it though; it should probably in the restricted section.”  
Veya nods. “I…I’ll tell the librarian. Thank you both very much!  
“No problem, Veya,” Cal says. “Let us know if you see that book again, yeah? I’d be interested to have a look.”  
He watches as the girl scuttles off towards the dormitory, before turning to Liza. “Soooo…”  
“Interesting curse for a first year to find,” she says, sipping her coffee slowly.  
“Accident?” Cal says slowly. “Or did she want to use it herself? Or did someone set her up to ask us?”  
“I’m not sure.” Liza stirs her coffee. “We should keep an eye out.”  
“Oh, don’t worry Liza,” Cal smirks. “I intend to.

* * *

Neveah has been acting strangely. The girl seems agitated, fiddling with her hair where she sits in bed looking over a piece of parchment.  
When Emiline moves over to sit on her bed next to her, the girl quickly stuffs it into her pocket, before giving her a slightly guarded smile. “What were you talking to Devereux and Winterwise about?” Emiline says, leaning back against Neveah’s headboard; her attitude is casual, but she’s watching the girl carefully out of the corner of her eye.  
“Hm? Oh, just asking for some help with classwork,” Veya replies, her own tone just as casual as Emiline’s. Fine. So they were playing this game. For a moment, Emi just wants to ask her outright what’s going on; she’s her friend after all, they should be honest with each other. But, then again…  
“What’re you finding tricky?” she says, pulling her hair out of it’s ponytail and beginning to brush it.  
“Oh just something in a book I got for extra reading,” Veya says.  
“Careful Veya, you’ll turn into Ailliena Devereux if you keep that up,” Emiline says with a snort.  
“I _like_ Ailla,” Neveah says in a slightly huffy tone, and Emiline quickly backtracks, even though all of her wants to yell ‘uuuuuh…why???’  
“Well, I can’t choose your friends for you,” she says with a lightly shrug.  
“Have you finished Professor Cordraco’s essay yet?” Neveah asks, changing the subject swiftly, and a little smile curls around Emi’s lips. This is a dance she can do.  
“Yup, nearly; just need to write the last paragraph. How’s yours?”  
“Just proofreading,” Veya says, beginning to brush her own hair.  
Emiline shifts so that she’s facing her friend, still combing through her own curls. “I’m glad we haven’t had any heavy work from any of our other teachers. I don’t think I could have done both.”  
“Yes, I feel the same,” Veya says, sighing.  
“So why did you tell Devereux that you were working on a History of Magic essay?” Emiline says quickly, and she smirks at the slight flush on Veya’s cheeks.  
“I just didn’t want them to think I was too keen, doing extra work for fun. It’d be embarrassing.”  
Emiline is impressed by how steady the other girl’s voice is. There are two practised liars in this room, and she can respect that.  
“Wow, have you been meeting up with Ailliena for fun? She seems to have been rubbing off on you,” Emiline says airily. “Or have you just been studying together?”  
“No, we’ve not been meeting up,” Veya says with a shrug. “We see each other during break sometimes.”  
“Oh, so…you _weren’t_ at a studygroup with her in the library today?” Emiline says with a tiny smile. “That’s funny, it looked a lot like you with her.”  
“She’s my friend. I’m allowed to stop and say hello,” Veya says back smoothly.  
Emiline rolls her eyes, hopping down off the bed. “Well, it’s your life.” She hesitates, setting down her hairbrush. “I heard what Devereux and Winterwise said about the curse, Veya. I just hope you’re not doing anything stupid for Aillena Devereux.”  
“She’s a Ravenclaw, Emi,” Veya slides under the covers, her face concealed by her sheaf of pale hair. “I wouldn’t exactly call her stupid.”  
Emiline privately agrees. However, as the rest of the girls enter the dorm and the lights eventually turn off, she can’t help wondering exactly how far the Devereux girl would go to prove she was right.  
  


* * *

“ _A prisoner by blood thrice bound,  
The price for blood undone,  
Sleep under stone far underground  
Our gift will end what we begun.”_

“Alizarine and Calbyrn said it was an ancient curse,” Veya says as she hands the piece of paper around their little circle.  
Galahad’s hands are nearly shaking with excitement as he takes it and scans the words, his mind whirring as he scans the words.  
“Maybe it’s a blood seal?” he says. “I’ve heard them mentioned. It can only be broken by the blood of the people who sealed it.”  
“Well, that’s no good if they died over a thousand years ago,” Emberlyn says.  
“Well…” Galahad says slowly. “It can be passed down bloodlines.”  
“Yes, but we don’t know who sealed it in the first place,” Veya says. “We don’t know whose blood we need.”  
“I think we may have a clue…” Guinevere says slowly. “Ailla, let’s see your hand.”  
Ailla stretches her hand out, and Guinevere gently removes her bandage, exposing her palm. Now that the blood has been cleared up, they can all see that the gash in her hand is in the shape of a triskele.  
“Of course!” Conner says suddenly. “Ailla, your family are descended from Merlin! Your blood, or Gwen’s could open the Vault! That’s why the words came up on the tapestry for you!”  
“It says thrice blood though…” Ailla says, considering the words carefully. “I don’t think our blood will be enough. What if…what if the tapestry is the way in? What if you need all three bloodlines to open it?”  
“Well…” Galahad stiffens slightly as Conner’s gaze turns to him. “Galahad, you’re descended from King Arthur, right?”  
“How does a muggleborn know so much about pureblood lineage?” Galahad says, raising an eyebrow, and Conner flushes slightly.  
“I listen to what people says,” the boy replies. “I learn quickly.”  
“Ravenclaws.” Galahad rolls his eyes with a fond smile. “Of course.”  
“So we go to the tapestry and see if it reacts to Galahad,” Ailla says. “When should we do it? It’ll be too busy during classes, but we don’t want to get caught out of bed after hours.”  
“After dinner,” Galahad says, looking round at them all. “We meet on the seventh floor opposite the tapestry. And we see what happens.”  
“Um…what about the curse?” Veya says, and Galahad turns to give her a reassuring smile. “It’ll just be a blood binding, Veya. No need to worry. Besides, I’ll be there to look after you all. Everything is going to be just fine.”  
  



End file.
